flavored with salt and iron,
it’s a black coffee morning,
i discovered,
as i woke with the smell of you between my legs,
your sighs caught in my pupils,
and an empty place on my pillow where your face should be.
i am greeted by a sugarless sky and a million miles,
a no-man’s land creamed with land mines and twinkle-star wishes.
blanketed in my so-small foxhole,
i shiver, hands cupped around a tin vessel,
watching the snow fall, shaking the bitter contents.
there is room for you here, folded in my arms,
and there, too, is a space for me in your trenches.
yet i cannot cross the wasteland between lines any more than you can,
leaving this bitter beverage behind, and running away
from the struggle and artillery to huddle so safe with you.
{we wait for the battle to end}
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
Compilcated with a few layers. This is well written. Allot of metaphorical imagery that pokes the mind into carious thoughts.
"as i woke with the smell of you between my legs" Blunt and effective.
Tis liek your fighting missing them. Throwing up an image of a abttlefield where to expose yourself from your safety results in been struck down. So both of youwait in your cover, alone from eachother.
Good write.
-
i loved this one
of all the poems i've read of yours this one has to the best! keep on truckin
Adding your comment:
