It is not my history repeating but my hands remembering
A walnut shell with a fibrous casing able to crumble into saw dust
For those lips to lick a sweet lingering
Though I refuse that textured metal-crusher to crack and loosen
I did this, fallen from my own pocket out beneath the blood red pavement
Though naked and bare, you do not see me nor could you know of it
Tis’ to simple to grasp, though free as feathers on fleshy dynamic structures
I should step back from your ungrateful imagination
Yet, I still desire those lines to wrap around my thighs and waist
Yes, I will always contradict your reality,
Deal with it!
-Susie E.
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3 comments:
This is an interesting one. What are you trying to say by describing the pavement as "blood red"?
New poem up on my blog.
Poured out my heart
Pavement meaning out in the open, is known, and like on a road for it to be ran over
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