More of a Poet

I think I’m more greedy

than you can imagine,

spread out and dyed,

smothered in the freshly baked pages

of imagery gone wild,

swinging out across the sand.

I want to swallow and taste

the bitter hue

of words gone sour

in the library of our thoughts composed,

boiled, shredded and baked

in the oven of our small apartment.

I’ve got the sensation

of all your angles and panes

stamped across my tongue

despite my actions of trying to

scrape myself clean of you

with a bloody knife.

I’ve got you printed deep within

the pages and painted

across my skin,

despite my horror.

I’ll never see your grimace,

your smile, your laugh

carved and curled around the words.

I’m expecting myself to write fantasy

in which you don’t exist,

the wall are white

and the sheets are clean.

You’re more of a poet than

I am though,

for I can still feel your presence

moving inside me.

Broken Spine

I’d hope that you’d lick me back across the pages, scrape your teeth along the base of my spine, words floating past the muscles of your shoulders, ink spotted upon your lips in the delirium of this long and inspiration less night.

            

I’m always waiting for your hands around my throat, warm in the memory of this silence, your voice muted against the heavy pressing petals of the sleep that floods this night. And I stumble, cross and scramble through the dark, sliding out across the floor, blankets tangled, pencil, paper, anything I can find within my grasp, naked in the stinging need not to let it go.

           

Because you wake me at inopportune moments of the night, in the back alleys, the corridors and emptiness found in education, the silent seconds beside the traffic lurching forward, your hands tangled in my hair, my body heavy, my fingers burning and your voice a whisper in my ear that I’m about to lose.

            

I am about to lose it.

            

I’m scared of this moment, for I need to be blindsided, pressed against the shelving, trapped between your body and the wood, your lips a feather across mine to muffle the cry. For I am nothing without you, the gravitational pull you carry, the smirk of a smile stretched tight across your teeth, ready to bite, smash me forward, burry me under the grave of my own talent. You are always ready to kill, shred apart what ever love I give you, in an attempt to show you care.

            

Still, I’ll take what I can get, the cold traces of impact you leave trailing across my body, the realization that I can no longer escape, no longer go back to what we were before.

            

For I was your lover long before we knew it.