Her Window
I’m the shadow behind your imperious stance,
Lurking in the qualms of your history.
I am the murky gleam in your squinting
…mascara caked eyes.
I am misfortune lain artfully at the floor of your
800 thread count nest of regret.
Can you feel me?
Do your feet shudder at the touch of the cold in the morning?
That hardwood was a bad choice
….wasn’t it?
Yet, as the dew of the dawn melds with the sweaty condensation
Of the night before and turns your window into an opaque sheen of
Comfortable security; you feel entitled enough to call me again.
…..And your conscience throbs in unison with my ringtone.
Your stammering excuses plummet and miss their mark
Before a well-rehearsed alibi can be properly injected
Into my all too vulnerable system.
A taste like bitter wine prowls unto my heart’s palate;
And my surrogate body wakes to taste the salt of your embrace.
Your voice creaks.
My hand wraps tight around the sound of your
Insidious modulation;
While cell phone towers crackle in apparent empathy
To the strained atmosphere.
I am left wielding a torpid tongue.
Inferences and implications are scattered and entwined;
My body tries to correlate an action
….but I’m stoned.
Too confused to be logical.
…Too overwhelmed to even move.
Drowning in bloody promises,
with a noose of heartbreak around my neck.
And as he reaches for what once was my heaven;
I hear a yawn of contentment that almost echoes
.
You lean to your window,
And wipe away droplets of our past;
And I force myself to inhale clarity.
"Goodbye."
-James Kelley 2011 ©
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