Where the Click Can Be Heard

A pressed fist to throat when I feel alone, and gag

A click, a wish: nothing but the best for you

 

A pressed pair of lips to shoulder blades, and prayers

A cut, riven lip: punched almost as afterthought

 

For the hours it cost, on the cold, dirty floor

Of a gas station bathroom

 

Pulling grass from your backyard

A song you didn’t even notice I sang

 

To yourself, yourself the saved

A traitorous pause at the wrong place in the park

 

For the punch and the teeth, she hit me,

With escaping leaves, smothered on bare legs

 

A set of brought flowers, and a kiss

A taste, where the click is heard aloud

 

Where the words don’t really matter

But we wish to say them anyhow.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s