Monday 22 July 2013

dead summer .

lips red as sin, 
and the smell of something deep and lustful
dabbed to the wrists, the neck, 
the small of the back.
the room is full of people
or it is empty,
[i don't know the difference]. 

it seems we are all here for one hundred years
just trying to memorize dates, and times, and schedules,
and the recipe to a good chicken casserole. 
trying to memorize how our bodies work 
before they change again. 

and you are sitting across from me
in a room that's full or empty
[me, lips red as murder
you, a dirt smudged tan].

i've memorized the shades of brown and green 
and grey that make up your iris,
and i could recite your name in my sleep like a song
[i do].

but sitting here, my red sea lips 
refuse to part
the way i want them to. 

{Photo via: We Heart It}


  1. Your lips refuse to part... the way you want them too...

    I have been there... wanting so much to say what is in my heart and yet my lips will not part.. so sad isn't it...

  2. This is so haunting and gorgeous. Way to make my Monday. Good lord do I love these words.

  3. "my red sea lips// refuse to part// the way i want them to." astounding.