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Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Newly Writ [Been Edited]





Lover's handprint stain


                             Depressions in my bed
                             sheets still smelling like you
                             old pictures       old letters
                             gifts wrapped but never given
                             memories, stories, sharing, shared

                             I have to tell again the same things
                             I told you, but won't be you anymore
                             it'll be someone different, and they'll be a little
                                    less interesting

                             How I've missed this you, this       new you
                             this replacement part, replacement lover
                             her soft hands       kiss as good as your lips
                             I imagined, even better

                             And in my head you are
                             in front of me       I can see the curve of her hips
                             the place where I would brush my face against
                             stubble rubbing so I'd say, "sorry"
                             you'd say, "I love you"
                             we'd just lay       just like that —
                             passionate & apologies

                             You, her — can't tell the difference
                             who was it I loved?
                                    idea, image, and voice
                             I thought it was you       feels like her
                             my newer lover       my fixer-upper
                             swept up every piece, from corner to corner
                             under sinks, in drawers       the back of bookshelves
                             she delicately put my broken heart in the garbage
                             in the lover's dumpster's alley-way

                             Then something unexpected
                             reached inside her chest
                             pried open the rib-cage like rusty prison-bars
                             there was her heart beating       she cut it
                                    in half and gave me that
                                           I love her for that
                                                  but is it because my heart isn’t mine?

                             I am old Tinman
                             oil-can used up, borrowing parts
                             still getting stuck, still locked tight
                             still thinking Why,
                             "lover told me lies and I lost my love…
                                    lover told me lies and now love lost my name…
                                           lover told me lost and now lies love me again"
                             it doesn't make sense

                             she does so she has me
                             her heartbound
                             lover and I love her

                             I guess



*** Dedicated to Gibs ***

4 footnotes:

Lex said...

how depressing....

I would never call you to be cheered up. You seem capable of talking someone into suicide.

Zek J Evets said...

i have happy poems!

...i just never get the urge to post them up.

but that's a good idea. maybe i could start a hotline that talks people into committing suicide. it would only be for peole who really need to die - like rapists, murders, women with boobs bigger than their brain.

thanks for the idea, haha.

Lex said...

Hey that's your contribution to the world....I guess.

Zek J Evets said...

ouch.

i guess...