Homeless

Silence here since the last Monday of '09.
And what twists and tangles I have lived.
She of which I've wrote before, I write of now
For love knows many names and withstands time.
Dimples in her skin from where my fingers press,
Those thighs my eyes forever mull on.
Her stare of infinite want for us to be conjoined -
A wish granted by the tight wrap of my arms around her waist.
My chin finds home in the join of her shoulder to neck,
My lips dab love-paint there - how safe.. how homely.
Inside her I wish to hold the future still,
And topple together into a void bereft of time
Not to face anything outside of our connection.
We trade faces via the suck between our lips,
Our hearts always carried the same beat.
More often - our dance is cut short,
We loose the rhythm in our movements;
Abuse makes home in the corner of her worried eyes
And fear pulls her back into the darkness of her past.
My throne feels tiny cracks, for weak foundation,
I withdraw - anger draped over insecurities.
There is a scraping , clanging, on the floor.
It is pride in the form of a bear trap, clung around tear's feet,
They wish to join the bed but I ignore them.
In the corner they stay waiting, for only I have pride's key.
But how then did she let my tears free that night with him?
They ran tracks over the bone of my cheeks,
Crafting splotches on the cases of my pillows..
My guess is that pride has rusted over the years,
Failure as a trap, as I am as confident.

Here, now, the air is stale.
My bones sport her imprint.
Tiny grooves in the back of my skull wear bane,
And slung is sloth from ear to ear, mirrored in my house -
A reflection of my inner head splayed out in form of clutter;
Shoes, few guitars, dirty bowls, dirty clothes, things of that nature.
Even musk seeps between the tight pressed pages in all my books,
Mocking to be read. This is my existence - dirt.
I wish all could snap clean - pure - vanilla as her milk-white skin,
But lack of she brings plague to comfort and content.