PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I’m done with your dry kisses

that leave my sandpaper tongue

with nothing to say.

It has spent too much time crossing bridges

and not enough time looking down,

and now the river is rushing up to meet me

so I throw myself into her arms,

I throw my hands into

things that smell like memory.

I am speaking and listening

not just hearing my own mess break down.

And as we stand on the hills

with the white noise gone missing

the world is ours to see.