Inhaling ConfessionsA Poem by GunMetal
Inspired by the way we communicate, and what we never really verbalize to each other.
Where is your desperate, Lover?
You left it in cartridges of ink
to be spilled
along with whatever else was
on the table by your bed.
You fit crooked in a picture frame of nostalgia
with your arms outstretched like traffic lights.
I can feel the presence in your goosebumps.
Small talk is a water torture exchange between us.
I watch you as you speak to me,
while I listen for body language.
You’ll feel it when I taste your cheek
like matches to tobacco.
That is your flavor after all.
You kiss like a cigarette.
I have no idea why you want me this time.
We breathe smoke into each other
until we’re inhaling confessions.
At this point you stop and apologize.
You had not meant for this to happen.
And I neglect to tell you that you don’t need to apologize.
I’m hoping you’re watching me,
my posture telling you,
I know you’re not sorry.
We are dreadlocked together.
close enough to touch its thoughts.
We can only love in knots.
Dirty in our metaphor.
Unique in our present participle.
Simile like adjective nouns.
We could be anything.
We can speak clearly with our tongues wrapped around each other.
They taste like apologies.
They taste like a brilliant lack of commitment,
with way too much sympathy.
I might have loved you forever in a past life.
I might have told you that before.
One of my ghosts might have carved your dead name in a forest.
Maybe we’re haunting something somewhere,
We just can't be still for each other.
I can tell from your body, Lover,
you misplaced your desperate.
© 2012 GunMetal
Shelved in 5 LibrariesAdded on August 6, 2010
Last Updated on May 28, 2012
Wish You Were Here, Alta Loma, CA
AboutFirst off, if you have a Tumblr, feel free to follow me with the link up there next to my picture. Also, My Twitter. ------------------------------------------------- Find me somehow. My name .. more..
People who liked this story also liked..