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iodine love

Contributed by iodinelove on Friday, 24th December 2004 @ 08:13:47 PM in AEST
Topic: oops

On a bed
In the summer of two thousand two
The dirty blinds folding the exterior
the light and smiles opening
into the frozen, white morning
of North Carolina,
I loved and touched her sleep
her quiet, curly hair scattered
over face and pillow;
her hair the thunder of my night
shattered over snow and fire.
I kissed her, her dreams
flush and fluttered from
the room.
She kissed, my dreams slithered
from her lips
slithered up the yellow, stained walls,
on nicotine wings. We pressed our flesh
bit and sucked, quivered and seized
until finally meeting, hand in hand
our foreheads bound by desire.
This is not love, she said,
love is a triumph; the tangerines rotting
in the sink; love is a travesty.
I said,
love is the cigarette burning at our feet
and love is a car a brand new convertible
failed and dying in the street.
No, she said, love is not a car, and it is not
the window, or the laughter, or the heart
that skips a beat.
No, love is none of these things.
Love is the scar the cut you cannot have
it is the rot and ruin of all that you write
of all the wasted ink and time
it is the knife of your life rusted and
closed.
I smiled then and held supreme
the thrust and stab of my thought
the wail and silence of her breasts
folding into a bright and frightening
reality.

Copyright © iodinelove ... [ 2004-12-24 20:13:47]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: iodine love (User Rating: 1 )
by Red_October on Sunday, 26th December 2004 @ 06:35:30 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

I'm always amazed by your poetic truth and understanding of people and the world that most of them don't see. I love this one. Tiffany J. (Red_October)

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