Monday, August 31, 2009

Dying Romantic's Plea

If I were to promise you eternal amour, would you take it? Or you would you snap it off and throw it to the wolves? I've been kicked out of so many sublime courtships that these scrapes on my sides resemble birthmarks. You whisper with doubt in your breath: "I'll be here always." It's enough to pacify my spasmodic esteem but I know it won't last. Tonight I'll go to bed smiling only to wake up 3 months later crippled and bleeding on the border of mortality.

Sunday, August 30, 2009

Picture Of A Crucifixion

Your silk skin and pure beauty can pierce my everlasting gloom, but I'd trade them for solace any day. Memories shredded and strung across the sky like bolts of lightning on Judgment Day. I can still see your hair carving a gash into the summer air. It bled for years. How you could just walk away from everything we built. Now you're at my feet and begging for me to tell you the right words. All I can say is a faint "I forgive you" beneath clenched teeth while I fantasize about punting your pretty face into the horizon.