I don't know what I'm waiting for,
because I am a ghost and yet
I sit on my hands and wonder
where you've been -
I walk the forest in circles,
the methodical crunch
of leaves beneath my feet
and I remember
that you made me feel small,
and alone. here I am, facing
this brilliant hue that is me and myself
and I am the ghost but somehow
you are haunting me.
I feel a shiver of you
in my bones,
like the kiss of a half-moon
or the murmur of thunder
in your eyes. Love is only a shadow
of what we could have been
because I cave inward
at the sight of you,
buckling under the weight
of the empty space between us
here is the truth about skin and bones by forestmeetwildfire, literature
Literature
here is the truth about skin and bones
zip me from belly to sternum
so I stand straight as steel
as I wander from room to room,
half-asleep in a white hot dream.
if I mourned for dusk
would the sky howl for me?
the floor shakes deep in my ribs
each one a lightning rod
to thaw me like frozen meat.
you were a kiss unseen,
a whiff behind closed eyes
of musty spiced wine
and the fingerprints
you left on my spine
walls, boxes and doors by forestmeetwildfire, literature
Literature
walls, boxes and doors
you throw things at the wall
to see what sticks
hurl them with precision and watch
as each clatters to the floor
blink behind glasses like
in chemistry class
over and over
as i stand aside and say, not me -
words that slide over brick to sit
congealed you toss your two cents
that splatter like a slap in the face
and now i can fit into the box
that you call woman
it feels like
trying to keep my stomach
from climbing out of my throat
and flopping to the floor
(now my insides lie wet
and cold between us)
while I clutch my empty torso
and I can't breathe because
I go to sleep and no one is there,
because you reached into my chest
and pulled out my lungs and threw
them away
(I search every trashcan
you might have touched
but I can't find them,
I still can't find them)
so I cover my eyes and pretend
you're not just an inch out of reach
your shadow has detached itself
and climbed into me
but i still look for you over sharp shoulders
and around corners, between
pairs of eyes that linger too long
and in the curve of anonymous hands,
you seem to follow me everywhere
without being there at all
(and i'm just holding out for the sun)
chest to chest
you unfold grey
matter wrinkles
crinkled as the
bed sheets
between clenched
fists, fingers pressed
on red lips you breathe
in smoke and
synapses fire