Versatile, miniature responses and declines made queens
independent of theirselves in
this patriarch society.
Yawning serenity, a hurried heart
made from an angered galaxy and
cursed supernovas.
The slippery wind of your breath saying 'goodbye'
makes me look like a deceiving skeleton, believing in love.
That unkind reply,
that unscrupulous commitment,
musing on liquid promises.
That vehement conclusion.
Maybe i was too easy on you to
let out a feathered effort.
I regret the day i allowed you to burn down all bloodthirsty photos you have that screams memories and love, memories are stuck in the deafening house of my heart, perhaps i was just missing the good ol' days.
Wrathful hush,
fragile hands i've held.
Your love has an outstanding taste of both
sweet and bitter, a
dazzling drug.
Modest april,
a black world,
a trapped argument,
a hungry psycho
sinful talks,
your comfortable fatalities,
your old self's decent death, the wistful
grave you used to visit,
your well-educated confessions and alibis.
I was just a devoted doll.
Salty agony,
cheerless skin,
caged autumn,
that unaffordable knife disguised
as one of your fingertips.
That rusted record of your voice is still
playing in my car,
over and over again.
Worshipful remorse,
lost conversations on lifeless nights,
enigmatic accents,
that suspicious pressure,
your skillful trouble,
that plucky swallow of words.
Your enlightened courtesy,
how you said 'ma'am' and 'mister' reminds me
of my brother trying to
impress everyone.
I bet you can still smell my scented insecurities.
Useless dress,
that fabled girl
who's face is
full with lively pulchritude.
You tried to stay sober in your
blushing drunkenness, just admit it.
You are the first teacher that has taught me love in a
technique i've never been introduced to.
©sarah_
J