All Tuesday Night I Glimpse Your Face -

 

Red lipstick kisses litter the mirror,

Where I stand, casting lies

Into eyes in the moonlit night. The retina

Of time’s mirror has left me here,

Layers of soul being bruised, and onion-skins

 

Being peeled away. I life the sheet

To reveal my body, so alive within this manic

Shell as bruises swell whispers underneath

My egg-shaped, sunken eyes –

 

Amongst the robes of regret, I am learning

What brought to my knees this tender

Being. What numbness wore off the beauty

Of poems, leaving naught

But cruel words meaning nothing

 

And written with a broken-down

Pen. Place upon me

The gloves of sin, oh Lord, and shift my heart

To your loving hands

 

As robes unclothe now, revealing the meeting

Of skin on ice as crystals crack

And bend. It is Tuesday, and there

I am, weakening

Into weakened arms as they crush

 

Around me and our voices catch on each other’s

Mangled though. The flick of dust is reveling in its first taste

of skin; halfways I always meet you, and halfways,

My arms outstretched, begging you, take me home.