The Breathing Fog of May and the Insistence of Wednesday's Sun.

It's...

irrelevant

we're two stories, picture books rubbed raw and torn pages, he's

ripped

up the middle, down the lines of his face on the left and his right ear

dangles

over my toes when midnight falls, I watch him, inconspicuous, listen to my sleep.

I'm breathing, I'm attacked by May and I used to know lavender beneath the fog, I used to know dawn, I blanketed myself with scratches and wrote love letters to April when I missed the rain...

but now I write letters to him, hoping, somewhere, my handwriting can tattoo his skin.

He...

feels...

sometimes, I think it's love, that's what he's termed this undiluted destruction of me and it's a shame I didn't stain him, it's a shame my blood doesn't laugh at him from his palms, it's a

shame

I don't crawl over him like fleas at midnight, biting, itching and tearing him to shreds...

it's a shame I still make him smile.

I know the shape of Tuesday evening, she turns sideways beneath the moon, and my thighs become blue with memories and reflections but I leave the window open to confuse tomorrow

I crack the glass and pray I don't bleed, I...

slice through sunlight, I'm

tired

and he's sleeping, his eyes are always closed....

and I whisper to Wednesday to steal his eyelashes, I cry to April to blow them to me and I promised, I promised Thursday I'd make these wishes....

but I don't know

how to collect.

He's ineffectual as long as I'm cold, he's problematic and I sweat, swatting at headlights and curling under blankets, I'm trying to fool myself but

my eyes don't close...

and I've spit on last January, indignant in her youth, she'll never hear the screaming pain of forgiveness...

and my mouth

won't

close, my teeth won't crash and creek and grind him down...

not this close to May, anyway, not this close to

Wednesday.

Reviews

[LeahMichaels♥]

Honestly I read this twice. Then I read it again. I am proud to say that my first review goes to you.

I love how you have written this poem. It is very dramatic and powerful. I have to say that in a very creative way this doesn't make sense... but it does make sense? If you can understand what I just said I give you a thumbs up because even I am not sure what I mean. But. I will try to explain.

You fasinated me with the layout of your words. Enticed me with your quirky rhymes,
'but now I write letters to him, hoping, somewhere, my handwriting can tattoo his skin'
this is unusual but mind blowing. You drew me in then spat on me and kissed my forehead!

I don't know whether the strange use of words was a play on how April, May, Lavender ect could be names of people you know? and even if they aren't it is still a fantastic use of imagery and thought.

Well done, Incredible poem.

[An owl on the moon]

Such darkly beautiful glimpses of thought, moving independently like glimmers of sunlight on a black river... one must step back to see the whole... Amazing write.