I wish to give her what she is truly pining for,
the distinctiveness of real intimacy
undress her right where she stands
and lay her down before her eyes get too dry to see
this empty shell of a man, dying to replenish himself
my green-eyed darling, adorned with a particular vision
to see these entrails for what they really are,
and to envision a real future with this incomplete man
with loving words that extend only as far as her warmth allows me to
she stretches the threads of yolk thin as possible
my beating heart, cupped between nurturing hands
feeling it swim back and forth over the surface of her dry skin
maturing stomachs, with greater capabilities to feed
ardent feelings, always circulating between the strong layers that hold us together
how could her brain decipher this articulate agony
without recieving some kind of focused signal from my fragmented body,
to recognize the displacement in this frail structure?
the disgust that follows my opinion of the world around, like it's own shadow
unless you also feel it everytime you move,
everytime my hands aren't beneath you
a shadowless woman, developing a better way of handling the pain
the space between this rotting absense, and the very conception of us
nutrients, stored within your fondest memories of me
becoming obsessively intent on touching the inner walls of my reality
pleasing the sanctity of your lover's soul,
tearing open the remainder of the shell and swallowing whats left |
Submission Name: Incubation Period
