the games of our mouths are but forest darkness.
Come to me with the Shadows of Doves and spilt papers.
The sharp dampness of well acquainted sheets, Swells,
Like God puffing Life and kisses up from the End of the Bed.
This room is crowded in Vanished Smiles.
I Want them Back.
I Want the sight of your Teeth biting down into your Wrists,
To be There Forever.
I Want The Sounds that you Never imagined Would involuntarily
Slip out of your Lips,
To Be memorized by these Walls
And Repeated to me. Over.
Death is in the Folding of Sheets.
The Idea that Happiness
Is Simply the Prayer
that Tomorrow Never Comes.
I Don’t Want to Accept That.
Tomorrows been coming just the Same.
Where is my Measureless Night?
Time… cruel efficiency, Written out in Ashes….
How much of the darkness of my Soul, I Would Give,
To have you Back.
You had eyes
That no one could look at without Dying.
But this After…
Has become a Never-After,
And somehow Life has stopped coming with the Breeze…
Now… there are no freshly Cut Lawns… no sky above…
No Green. No Blue.
Into the Shelter of the Months I fly.
I Wanted the Impossible…
And Somehow… everything… has become It.
Even Breathing, now, Lifting my Voice to Speak,
All of it, Is beyond Me.
You are out Of Reach
So is Life.
From substance to substance, water to water,
Love to Love,
I Died into You.
And as much as I’d like to regret It.
That Is why
You are Endless,
So Please… Gather me up
As If you Were.
Copyright © Arthur Flockwhimsy | Year Posted 2008
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