Sunday, December 15, 2013

Eyes of white elm 
 and marks in black charcoal. 
Her tanned and taut skin, 
 a silver screen marvel.


The strength that I thought 
would always persist 
had lost too much hope 
for will to exist.

So when she had offered 
it troubled me so 
that loneliness spoke 
and didn't say no.


We butchered the night 
with blades of our silence. 
dysfunction washed filth 
with emotional violence.

And when it was over 
I packed up and flew 
for all we had done 
at once came to view.


Eyes of white elm, 
and nothing to trust. 
our bodies abused, 
addicted to lust.