In the Green Mist

The agony is in the waiting 

In the coming rain

And the moon hiding 

Behind a vague

Silhouette.

Love doesn't suit me

And it sure as hell doesn't fit

On my skin

On my sleeve

In my eye sockets. 

It fights against being worn

It tears at me 

With bloody nails

That have seen asphalt 

And trees 

Cooperating. 

Twenty-two

is a large enough number

To understand why spring

Is so much better than autumn 

And still ache at the mention

Of it.

Love doesn't look any good 

On me

Even at dusk

And its soft fading light

Patchy with stars 

On my face.

Frogs and cicadas

Beat their savage drums 

Into my sleep and 

My head throbs with the

Knowledge

That even worms

Think kindly of each other.

Reviews

[mattavelli]

Hello, Anna! :)
It was a treat finding your writing tonight. Its full of feeling, beautiful, and reads as honest. Thanks for sharing.

[Coyote Poetry]

Hello dear Anna.
"Love doesn't look any good
On me
Even at dusk
And its soft fading light
Patchy with stars
On my face."
I liked the above lines. When love isn't sweet no-more. What do we need? And thank you for sharing the amazing poetry.
Coyote