.I Do.

As if there’s a piano on your skin.

Fingers banging naughty notes
That shouldn’t make sense.

But I do.

Stripes of bruises glow
Black on your thigh,
Eight kisses deep,
Each chased by a sigh.

The key to your smile changes, but your laughter is cheap;
its bitterness pounds off the glass ceiling.
When I point at
it, it thins
bubble-thick, and
I catch 22 mirrors on my tongue.

Tick, tock,
Tick, tock.
I count white lies to seduce sleep.
I don’t want to dream.

But I do.


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I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

7 thoughts on “.I Do.”

      1. This one was written when I was hooking up with my high-school sweetheart and started realising he was a douche… for the second time.

  1. second time. :-O
    hmm. somehow that never worked out for me. the high-school sweetheart thing.
    well, actually never really had a HS sweetheart in the fist place πŸ™‚

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