today was the first time i saw it
a glance, brief but staring
saying, "forbidden but wanted",
"do you mean this?"
powerful and graceful, like a javelin thrown
in a perfect arc, causing
a curious tightness of the chest

and all i wanted was a pen, so i could
understand what she meant
because my words
(written in happenstance-red ink
on a post-it note, words carefully chosen
flowing faster than blood from my heart to the
red ink from the borrowed pen to the yellow paper
where they sat, expleted and frustrated)

were read and parsed under her long flowing hair
and, it,
don't matter

somehow it was supposed to be simple
taken in stride? but suddenly i'm a lap-dog

what happened?

what am i supposed to do?

i'm waiting, (if my life was a song, like a turned down bed)
sailing through pathways like a plague sign written on
a small wooden door

despite the entrance, death awaits.

so when she asks about lines on skin, used furniture
i pay extra close attention
i wouldn't want to miss my own funeral

-----------

and ringing, i slide away wordlessly, feeling ?hopeful?
but then soon, logic creeps in

it doesn't hit me all at once
but it's more foreboding, terrifying
like the sound of an approaching train

i try my best to tune it out, but
a buzzing of rejection, predestination,
livid fears
enters my ethereal ears, where there is a direct
line to despair from such deeply calibered words

laughing, thinking it's funny,
even flattered a bit

what was she going to say
going to say
going to say

for want of a pen, the words were lost
as deeper and deeper, the water pressure
increases, causing my bone density to deteriorate
my blood to thicken

my watch begins to leak
and i sit at the table and wish, wonder, why?

02/12/2007

Author's Note: EDIT (2/25/07) I changed "were read and parsed under that long flowing hair" to "were read and parsed under her long flowing hair" Kinda important ;)

Posted on 02/12/2007
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