vpoet, re:

spider’d legssmooth-tapping in consistent beat                           of eyes turning\                                                  falling by–                           tap, tap, tap,            tap–            first finger figuring rhythm of own

i
peaked
last night
as
you
slept in arms grown numb but
warm;
i peaked at
your lips,
pucker’d in thought and lost in air;
i peaked
as
your lungs
rose breasts,
drew back,
rose again;
i
peeked
at your darkened thoughts
as lids played host
to
eyes
gone rambling;
i
peeked
in to see
heaven
adorned with shadowed-sheets whispering
‘do not leave us
once sun returns;
do not cast us from
your hips
a mountain of us made’

the center of my universe,
but still surrounding me,
that gentle harmony
of Beauty
sings against my mind,
hinting at her existence
but still silent to my heart
until–
her eyes,
throwing their veil
of twilight
crashing into my daze,
shatter every picture of perfection
and rebuild them to fit her ways.

stuck between shelves
of history—of romance–
she stares beyond me;
I can tell by her glances
of reality, short, but there.
a thousand words an instance
each falling from her lips/her hair
as if to say
“I’m here, can’t you see me?”

And I do,
with eyes wide
to try,
desperately,
to hold onto her brilliance;
the brilliance of a never-darkening eclipse,
halo’d by those rays of thoughts
that,
somehow,
leave her beauty
to [...]

take with you
every memory
of whispers, of
wishes, of
movies let run
while we focused on..
other things.
take from me
every memory
of the days we shared
out of the snow,
in each others’ arms
without knowing
today would arrive.
take with you
every hand we gripped
to bring us closer
from eternity.
take with you
all i see
for it all reminds
me of you..
our time together,
morning to morning,
is too much to bear
on [...]

to be told i am worthless/
useless/
unloved
is liberating.
without those
cuffs of roles unfulfilled
i can
be uncaring–
that
cold’d wave of wind clinched-less
in palm
and
belly of fingers.

how pale turns moon
when your eyelids close
and your servant, i, can see you dreaming–
within subtled twitch
your lips turn rose
and left am i,
the startled spy upon your ceiling

how
round those eyes

the
roundest eyes

that arm
jerk-twisted and showing

those ribs
those ribs cleaned
and caving

those eyes;
how round
those eyes

swollen and stationed