more or less

She was like a lucid dream
so vivid yet ultimately untouchable

And sometimes I wondered if she only wanted me
after I’d exploded in the desperate rage
of unrequited love

Where I’d lie dismembered and saline drenched
on the mirrored floor looking up at the full moon sky
her face swimming in the connect-the-dot stars

Time would ride the silence
through the grey scale days
unwilling to remember
unable to forget

And then she’d come around
with lemon tart kisses
and gentle fingers smoothing the lines
of my crumpled paper face
inhaling me like cobalt saturated smoke
a melancholy purple hue

Seconds rewound undiminished by tangled bed sheets
stained orange in the sun god’s dawning light
a world suspended within four white walls
that reeked of sex and passion and poetry unsaid

She was like a lucid dream
so vivid yet ultimately untouchable

And sometimes I wondered if she only wanted me
after I’d exploded in the desperate rage
of unrequited love

My poetry spent in tortured retrospect
to be banished in the golden bubbles of sobriety undone
where I loved her a little less
when she slept like an angel beside me
my mind ever ready, bracing and craving
the devil inside

© Indie Adams 2013