Just a quick poem I did today.

[swingloverswing]

Overnight Fight

Raging,
eyes lit up like skylights bleed
their sun onto the carpet,
and all the nights we fight
each other’s
shoulder blades and rib cages,
imprison each other with love and lust
and trust is not as simple as knowing
you will catch me
if I fall out
of this love
or if I run out
on you
if I run out
of the words
to tell you what I need.

Passions
mean weakness
the language of power is spoken by
a closed hand against an open palm,
one fighting and one giving in
a struggle of flesh against bone
heart against stone
cold judgement and
jealousy
that is at once freezing and flaming
an emptiness and a bonfire.

Forgiving
tomorrow your eyes will soften on me
and will tear just slightly
warm upon your cheek and mine
entwine
and whisper the words that tug softly
on my ear and fingertips
that trip and climb your hip,
and grasp
the curve of your forgiveness.