The Grass is Black/The Air is Pink


feel me/read me/follow me


At nine in the morning
I sweat for you
on a tower of books that’s my “to-read” pile
thinking of the only two poets I’ve met
in my life
not this life, but the one before this one where trees grew and never fell
where children laughed and never cried

At two in the afternoon
I am bleeding for you
from behind my ears
where you’ve kissed so many times
during the month of July
when we could’nt have sex
so we fucked instead

At around midnight
while my tea dreams in sugar
my poets are awake, my poems are asleep
I eat a star for you
so that you know I’m devoted
to our union
the star explodes inside of me
but it’ still not you

written: October 10, 2011

Filed under: desire,desire,desire..., la vie poesie, life, poetry, regarding myself

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