PILLOW - WEPT |
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03.24.03 . 1:07 p.m. the city here is beautiful: the nude afterglow of the evening sun the crumpled linens on your bedroom floor the magazines piled in the corner next to your nightstand the books you'll never read. my clothes from yesterday, still covering my body. my shoes lost underneath your bed your feet resting across my thighs youre reading my eyes - i can see it on your face as you watch me staring at the children playing on the sidewalk outside of your window the blinds are pulled up, i can hear cars passing and mothers screaming and men grunting. the boys are in the other room, playing on keyboards, playing with guitars, playing the drums...making noise so loud i can only feel the pulse of the bass instead of the thumpthumpthump of my own heart beat. (it doesnt matter) you already know it beats finely for you. i am tuned to a T. like nylon strings you can never break. when the sun decides to play hide-and-seek, we'll already have forgotten its effect on our day. we'll forget about the seagulls that flew over the ships that were pulled in at the harbor near the aquarium night time is only a fresh start something new & void of creases night time is the moment of silences and truth when between the covers we'll find that maps were never needed, and that just the two of us are involved - and points A & B are your hips to mine. its as simple as grade school - no complications, and no mathematics. we never needed to learn the rules. (i dont know why we ever bothered) this house is old - it creaks when you walk down the stairs. the doors bend and strain and moan with the walls at night. the springs inside the matress make small cries and plead for us to let up - to sleep softly - to not cry out in such agonizing points of pleasure. we'll leave the windows open at night - while we nest inside of your sheets. when dawn breaks - sunlight will send shadows across our faces & stomachs & legs. the sound of morning chirps, buses, little girls and little boys will be the only music this old place can hear. that, and the sound our bodies will make when we peel from the skin of blue linens. x |
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