Friday, December 16, 2011

You could have put them in a cage.

And my directionless flight
Was halted when you
Stirred the birds in my veins
And sent them flying
Everywhere with just the bat of your lashes and

Your sharp tongue
Tastes like burnt cigar
With a feint taste of my mouth
From the last kiss
We had

When I was plaid and your feet hurt.
You can feel the sting
In the ceiling, in the airwaves,
And in the corners that
The security camera cannot record.

Mornings were never the same
When I used to sit on dirt as you
get rid of it
And I burn my lungs away

And the uncertainties, the
Occasional what if's and my skin
against piercing eyes and obvious contempt
In their glass skulls
and shady hands
that they never wanted you to

Lay your claustrophobic head on my leg.

I want matchstick legs.
You don't.

It didn't matter
Because I believed you knew
That I have the same number of bones as you
I had one more, they say
And you never bothered to count my bones for proof
That we have the same
Goddamn number of bones.

And how on earth would
I speak not of the truth
When I'm an inside out blanket
Hanging from your window

To dry in the rain?
All I ever wanted was for you
To return the birds back inside my veins
Or at least tell me where you've sent them flying

Away from me.
And I'll look for them, and maybe I'll find you there
And lay your claustrophobic head on my legs
And the dirt will sparkle
From the light
By their shattered glass skulls
Upon my feet.

And how could I be so delusional
When my pupils dilate
And my hands numb, and my
Spine weaken from the strain
Of my veins demanding
Of blood?

I'm afraid I'm fading.
Give me back my birds.

No comments:

Post a Comment