with a heavy soul
desires have become memories
like a photograph I recall seeing
but not sure where
your past and mine
could be like
the energy of a wave
like the lines
on the back of my hand
the creases in your face
like a road map
We never follow
but keep—just in case
like the box
of secrets
hidden in the back of my closet
our history like intersections
crossing in the middle of nowhere
framed, dissected and hung on the wall
a silver gelatin camera-eye
languishing in our death’s-head
like love–that never happened
Did I read this on your original blog? I love it, the similes, the metaphors, so much strength to convey the slight despair… great job!
[...] I want to come, but because I want to come for him, with him. He is a naughty cock, a sort of lost heart with cock that curves and drips and impaled me in all the right [...]
topaz: yes this was on my original site. Thanks for the poetry compliments always. Much love,
lv