written 02.25.08

[he_chose_her]

i want to write again,
about promiscuity and extraneous roots,
loss of truth
and arrogance mistaken for pride.
the rail-thin marlboro man,
with his rotten black lungs and sallow skin,
settles into the coffee grounds that envelop his casket.
i am jealous of him when lips part
to spill nothing but wasteful words into the air.
i bite my tongue;
i'm always biting my tongue
but compared to you my words are velvet;
quick & smooth.
i yearn for reciprocation or
a reminder of a rose amidst your mess of thorns.
i'm tired of waiting on your establishment of self;
spinning around on your carousel.
i want a sunset with golden undertones;
a reflection of the warmth i'll find within.