Meadows, lakes, rivers, streams, fields, mountains, and hills.
The thrill of life has lost itself from all my routine escapades.
Kissing you upside down, backward, forward, reverse.
Every tiny likeness of life seems to bore me now.
I trace the features that are your nose, lips, mouth.
Forgetting the eyes.
The eyes only hold devious, knowing mischievous motives.
To get lost in them would only mean that I would become your fiendish accomplice.
My legs would open, my mouth would leave markings on your neck, your cheek.
We'd stay seperated in our individual universes, only being connected with our hollow bodies.
I'd move away before the serpent that is your smile would activate this vicious cycle all over again.
Now the cool tiles of the kitchen floor remind me that I was only just your temporary whore.
Define a whore?
By her looks, her intentions, by her past?
If only I really cared to become relevant to answer the question passionately.
The sand starts to sprinkle into my eyes, the heat and sting of it's particles burning my sensitive face.
I become enveloped into the fortress of secrets and cynical transitions.
My dreams only format black and white, the hues of orange, red, yellow, blue no longer exist within my skull.
The screaming subtitles in front of my muted voice, this is the derange film that is my life.
Gray no longer stays, it is still all black and white.
The protege that once was me, is merely projected in pictures or in the movie screen you keep locked away in your bedroom.
I take what is mine, what's little to establish on this new binding I engross myself in.
I won't let the creatures of the night take great delight in my dismay.
You're gone, but my head still vibrant and generating new ideas, will encase the mementos that are you in a box, top shelf, away from my fresh new thoughts.
© Copyright 2016 Kathleen Megquier. All rights reserved.
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