deepundergroundpoetry.com
Articulate, Awkwardly?
That thing where you write on
A back with fingertips;
Flesh semaphore of feelings.
If I conveyed my sunken depths
Your skin would be cut and torn.
That thing where you trap
An answer machine message;
Analysing the curve of each word.
If I searched mouth for meaning
Your lips would be barbed wire kissed.
That thing which steals into the night,
Wakes you up and
Laughs in your face.
That thing.
Those fucking things.
A back with fingertips;
Flesh semaphore of feelings.
If I conveyed my sunken depths
Your skin would be cut and torn.
That thing where you trap
An answer machine message;
Analysing the curve of each word.
If I searched mouth for meaning
Your lips would be barbed wire kissed.
That thing which steals into the night,
Wakes you up and
Laughs in your face.
That thing.
Those fucking things.
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