The moon has drug her fingers into your plans of control.
She clenched her claws so deep into your spine that you cant
remember how to move me close.
Don’t let me hear you speak in barks again.
I’m sweet, but I don’t kiss dogs.
At twelve you made me believe you
were serious. Those messages stored
in bottles that turned up in foreign caves,
but those phony instructions only
exhaust posies for the faint.
I’m licking this envelope closed on my own.
It tastes like salt drips from your eyes.
God damn the stillness of tonight,
it reminds me of when you slipped
into that stone costume of silence.
I wish your words still sang, instead
they grow mountains covered in
snow. When they melt the floods
will come. I’m lost in your whip lash,
but I’ve learned to float.
If all of it must end then why do you cheat?
Why move the pieces away from
my sight? I know they are there behind
your blush colored sigh.
I never asked for stocks in your
empty spaces but here I am today,
boasting in their lack of existence.
I’ve beat my craving for cover out, let the delicate
sight of forgiveness pass by, and generated enough
self-light to finally pat myself on the back for peeling
off the mask you tied behind my neck at birth.