something in the morning
breathes relief to the
whites of our eyes. i'll never
know just what it was,
when he cold walked in the door,
that took me by the wrist
leading me (single bridled faith)
giggling like a school girl
blissful and impulsive.
you have no
idea; i'll never tell.
silence fills spots of tension;
we're breathing with our eyes shut.
draw me in and
let go, (struggling between moral promises
and desirous impulse. it must be
something about your eyes;
drowning emerald glass green. but
who am i to say
where honesty lends its neck to
betrayal stinging with the sarcasm of martyrdom
all summed up in the value of_
language is inert.
i'll stop crying beneath your feet;
first i want to tell you...
seventy two straight hours
sleepless, just to
be and enjoy what you are.