Saturday, February 2, 2008

until i see you for real, until i can touch the
skin on the inside of your wrist, until my head
fits soundly in the crook of your neck, you'll
reside in my mental purgatory. sure, you can go
to work, and even school if you choose, but you're
hidden up there. you aren't mine, i don't want
you to be, but i think i miss you.

i secretly cross my barbwire fingers, hoping that
every bone in my body will liquefy and i can just
slide my way over to you. we can be coltish and
pull fire alarms. we can ache, or rather i can ache,
until the i feel the rushing of blue veins under
my sensitive finger pads. until then, goodbye.

4 comments:

Grinning Mouths said...

clouds hide my barb-wire kisses.

does this mean we have something in common?

imbrilliant said...

hmm, it does sound that way.

can i borrow some of your
clouds for my fingers, or
is that too much to ask?
:]

Grinning Mouths said...

hell, you don't kneed to ask.
they're right above you...

imbrilliant said...

wow! gee, thanks! :]