Thursday, July 2, 2009

lost baggage.

my back to you,
lying still
with your sister's soft whispers to her cousin i just recently met.
i see the light in the loft flicker
on and off.
i wish it was off.
it stays that way the whole night

my back to you,
not meaning to
but this meer gesture can be taken in so many ways.

and this morning, i wake
with aching shoulder blades
and a headache,
purple chest and a lion's jealously.
for what? i do not know.

manic is all that i own.
it's all i've ever owned.
as a child, i lived in my bedroom
tears on the books i read
neverknowingthat thisis what theycall

i still don't know.
i am needy at times and wholly a contradiction.
i wear wounds on my sleeve and fight off
i like being alone yet cannot stand to be in that house without her.


what can i say? i love the smell of the past.
it's tempting and furtive
like the blankets of her old bedset.
and i hardly knew her.

at the time. i think we are well worn into each other now.

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