we stopped at the intersection
the vivisection of emotion,
experimentation,
deliberate denial,
and somewhere along the way
i lost my bearings,
(followed red herrings to the point
of not knowing you when i saw your face),
but i did not fall.
strange that such empathy
(see? now i know what you mean)
should take place in the foreign den,
where i melted into a couch
and wondered why
i wasn't more robotic,
in the good way.
and all these things,
they burn my heart.
they course through my lungs
like air,
like fire on my tongue.
it burns, it really does.
like 86 proof.
(and i'm not sure if that's
the good way).
5 comments:
oh baby. yes.
(and, dude, i was referring to the fact that "look to the mountains and play a sweet song" was straight outta your "welcome home kerri!" poem)
it appears your first time drinking was better than my first time drinking.
a. i like this poem.
b. riley's grasp of subtlety boggles the mind.
b. cries in corner
a. did you catch my cleverness? it was almost the entire point of this poem.
b. now, now. don't fight, you two.
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