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Free Love Poems \


By duchess on 02/09/2006
Viewed: 505
Reviews: 4
an arm hangs delicately out the window, a cigarette
beguiles trailing up into second story

he rounds the bend, smiling on
the sight of her little hand protruding
from the flat.

for nine seconds
this is, what coming home
to her would be like.

they fit

like two pieces that fled
the jigsaw

there is no other, to need to want
more. it is

no one will get the full picture
they have deviated from the box,
the table is visible beneath

the shape of two bodies that go together

now lost

the passive murmur of quiet discontent
forlorn and breathing over
nine hundred, ninety eight
cardboard pieces.

i miss you is being thought again as if
pushing time.

in the interest of the wonderous
they belong.

a kept imperfection of undying flawed sweetness.

i will be yours, and if never,
then i shall never be yours


Moderator / Royalty

"For most of history, Anonymous was a woman." - Virginia Woolf

© By duchess On 2/9/2006 5:56:07 PM
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