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Literature Text
clouded eyes like wayward turbulent tornadoes,
your oak tree limbs were lavished
across the vintage leather sofa that
your mother donated as a wedding gift
"how lovely it is that you're starting your
lives together"
(remember) you took a photograph of my inherited lips and kissed it
ten times with yours,
and i knew i was in the type of infatuation that made
teenage chest cavities palpitate and that finalized with disheveled kisses
on the forehead that spelled out, i want you
i also realized that i couldn't be in love with you when i unearthed your
closed eyelids and bloodied hand grasping an insidious pistol on the hardwood floor,
(the one you erratically mopped in case i somehow slipped)
and i lunged and languished for you to reawaken
(maybe your eyes would flutter open and you would sleepily whimper,
"i'm just drunk, dear")
but you were now buried underneath our cherished weeping willow
(where we shakily uttered our vows in our wedding clothes)
sometimes when we were in my medicated brain
you were still sheathed around me like a clinging toddler,
and i was basking in your body,
soaking in your skin--
(you were alive in my head always)
i always do terrible things to my characters, i would be such a bad god
© 2013 - 2024 delirious-eyes
Comments2
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you're not the only one. I tend to be horrible to my characters and put them through some really tough shit - even then, it's a necessary evil