Condensation builds up on yearning lips.
I lean in, to taste the color of your aura,
savor it, breathe it in, reminiscent of lemons,
and twist my fingers through yours like
a noose around my neck.
Like a pariah, you sing, a pariah or piranha,
but you’re having as much problems of deciding
as when the sky suggests the devil is beating his wife.
My reply is this, I seem to be, but I’m not, you see,
I’m wearing my heart like a crown, pretending
that you’re still around.
You have a habit of lying, and I’m still cradling
the words-I love you-knowing
they were never mine, and though you smell like lemons,
lemons are not sweet-
The stinging hole in my heart reminds me,
just as I lean forward to breathe you in again.
I love you too.
Author notes
Not sure...*shrugs*...not written from my experience...all I could come up with...
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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"Like a pariah, you sing, a pariah or piranha,
but you’re having as much problems of deciding
as when the sky suggests the devil is beating his wife." That second stanza is my absolute fave of this poem!
This is great. I haven't read some of your new stuff but I really like it. Different, more finding your own voice I think, and just as good.
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