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Kill-me grey clouds billowed
Past our kitchen window.
Jammed-up without enough slack
To come back down.
Smokesleepily, take a drag-me-out-of-bed.
I was folded tight and neat that night
And slept sound-on-mute
Waking two medium sized cracked open eyes
To your broken-eggshell address:
‘It would be good to go out today-
Pulled stockings had fallen.
That Feline sound padded
Towards our bodies’ warmth.
That wilder one cascades,
Sending machine-gun water droplets
Past our heads,
To sit upon our pillows, for a moment—
Before they sank beneath the surface
Settling themselves, into soft warm core.
‘We should make the most of our time-
Snow brushed from the air
Shuddered down on slab-paths.
Singing sounds, electrified and transferred,
Fly from our wooden music boxes.
I lie here, morning comes and goes
Wherever we are, however I sit,
However I try to wake.
Nothing is wasted on you.
‘I woke feeling like this, feeling happy…
There is no back wall to this
I cannot find it.
| i like this piece. i got the feeling that a man and his lover were spending time together and show each other what the other means to them. then for some reason, the guy says that he was happy. key word being 'was'. so what happened to the happiness?|
|| Posted on 2006-03-22 00:00:00 | by insphered soul | [ Reply to This ] |