I want someone to hold my hand, wishing that by closing my eyes I would be hidden.
Hardened habit to humble hand in my unforgiven mind
Every sin a bold lipstick mark, an orgasm on stations of guilt.
Years marked by a handful of hair and a bite.
A touch attached to a face, and to that face silence.
Naked and honest to a silent clothed foreboding,
eyes on feet that walk away and never toward.
A bruised living canvas, come view this this pornographic epic,
another artist, another name.
Battling it out with a dash of perfume and stilettos as bayonet's
Break those that are worth breaking and price the livestock cheaply.
I never wanted to hurt you.
I thought I'd cut myself till I'd let go and now my other hand takes up the torch.
When people look away from your eyes like they've touched you in an intimate way, you've won something.
You haven't given anything but you've sucked a defenseless piece of their soul in to you and somehow you're more for it.
But when it really matters to me, I'm the one that looks away.
When I need someone desperately I cannot hold they're gaze, and theres no witty come back, just stumped silence and an embarrassed smile.
Like a hollow spot is suddenly filled by their need to win
I know it, I've felt it. Small victories for small people.
small people I desperately want.
This post is filled with wishes I can't portray in so few lines.
lines that now bunched up as they are will lose meaning and become random thoughts.
But each sentence here had a journey, a life time, and a love story, and it's with more then passing sorrow that they are laid to rest.
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