Addict

An addict
The world cannot see this furious need
It finds me in the middle of the day
Renders me useless
Makes me want to find
Isolated alleys and abandoned bathrooms
So I can roll up my sleeve
Tighten the tourniquet
Feel the needle against my skin
Only when I feel that rush can I show the public
Some semblance of my sober face
This drug it is insidious
It crept up on me
I was unsuspecting
I didn’t know
Even though I feel it is wrong I do not want to quit
It exalts me
Makes me feel omnipotent
Superior
So I shall hide again
Tap my vein
Prepare my concoction
I devise a stratagem for us to meet
Our lips shall touch again
I shall feel the rush
The surge of emotion
My hovering heart above every other need
You are my drug
My chosen poison
The dope that has wrought this change
From rational to senseless
Unable to function without another
Fix

Deception

Strange
That is what they would say
They would scowl at us
Their disaproval apparent
On the spurious faces
They submit for our perusal
Laugh
That is what I would do
As I kiss you with abandon
In crowded rooms
And public venues surrounded by affectations
Those who would cast the first stone
Smile
That is what you would do
As you cup my chin in your beautiful hand
And tell me enchanting tales
To assuage my worry
And unfurrow my silly brow
Love
That is what we would have
And our adoration would spill over
Make others uncomfortable in the presence
Of such intense need
Radiant devotion they have never known

And most likely
Never will

Sigh

I have lost this
Ability to breathe
I cannot fathom a time
Before you
The aforementioned capacity
To accomplish inhalation
Gone
Because of your smile
Your smell
Your words
You

Fruit

Peel me
Like a banana
An orange
A kiwi
Some multi-colored fruit
My skin is tough
It may be sour if your
Tongue flicks out to taste me
But underneath
That is where my sweetness hides
Even as I ask for the kindness
Of your gentle fingers
Tugging at my tightly woven sheath
I envisage this attempt to expose
Will be nothing but a serrated knife
Cutting deep inside me
For you have no patience
And you are greedy

Instrument

This musician, he has many claims
His fingers promise he recognizes my instrument
Perhaps he knows my heart is a violin, although out of tune
It can still emit a euphony of sorrow
If his bow is strong enough to thrust across my rusty strings
Or can he see my stomach is a cello?
That if he holds me between his knees
And attempts double stops on my flesh while I smother a giggle
He may just fashion a masterpiece
Does he perceive that my ribs are a piano?
Meant to play a concerto of lament when I am distracted by the salmon sunset
He asserts that if I just submit
He shall compose a symphony
Full of my remorse and discarded love
I duck my head in acquiescence
Knowing full well that his attempts at perfection
Will be thwarted by my never-ending
Inability to be in tune

TH

It was this
It was that
It was those
It was things
It was there
It was thrills
It was throbs
It was more than
It was thankful
It was thoughtful
It was theoretic
It was theatrical
It was thirsty
It was thawed
It was thwarted
It was thievery
It was threadbare
It was threats
It was thrown
It was through
It was then
And I am alone

Crayolas

She colors a picture with her worn crayons
Using cerulean for the sky
Mountain meadow for the grass
It undulates under the press of her hand
This depiction of another place
One where she is noticed
That other dwelling where the mother
She is smiling and beckons
Allows her to crawl up on her enveloping lap
And sings the praises of her creations
Then sends her to her room with cookies
And a warm glass of milk
The mountains here are burnt sienna
As the sun hits them with
A temperate warmth
The water that laps at their edge
Is caribbean green
And the fish are teal blue
This pastel scene makes her sigh
This illusion it makes her unbearably happy
To finish this work of art
Brings melancholy
For she knows that with the completion
She will again be left with this
A colorless world
Where the crayons are normal
Plain old blue, green, orange, and brown
And devoid of the complexion
Of her trusty box of
Crayolas

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