Those Midnight Infactuations
Those Midnight Infatuations
1.
You're the water
on the phone Sun
that I crave.
To become the
dopamine blocker
in my brain.
2.
I am the minuscule rolled balls
of lent you pull at
on clothing
swiftly thrown away
making nerves
skip over your skin
holding hand in hand.
3.
My feet knotted with yours
but as the moon hits the glass
of week old water
on the oak nightstand
it shows you are just
another shadow I have
glued to my side.
4.
The tip of your
dry cracked finger
traces the outline
of the old water ring stain.
From whisky glasses
next to the bed.
Quick to turn back around
as he comes back in the room.
5.
Hot water consumes you
as liquid swirling
around your shriveled feet
turns crimson and all they can say
when arriving is
they did all they could
but I guess you didn't love
me enough to stay.
6.
You became a permeant
nettle deep in my
limbic system
and the only way
to remove you
would to get rid of
part of me
forceps tick
the folds of my brain
severing most ties
to the rest of my body
but you would like that
wouldn't you?
7.
The distortion lens
you blinded me with
is the reflections
I see in coffee
only to get muckier
as you pushed
me away until the very end.
8.
The crevasses of your skin
crinkled like dew-fallen paper
left outside for too long
when the folds in
your lips cracked
when you smiled
shame the only thing
to see that is dirt.
Copyright © Meredith Cherry | Year Posted 2016
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