we weren't even making love.
we were fucking.
sweating and irregular were our bodies,
stupid stoned faces &laziness in kissing;
we were concerned with our lower regions.
in our early morning motion,
we exchanged lustful liquids.
our awkward faces turned serious.
we had names
& even the color
of our new room picked out.
we thought of ways to tell others,
but thought nature would tell best.
we giggled at our current idea.
smiling at a belly button.
the realization of ability shows its face.
no matter the sunlight, she was in
closed-door darkness, salivating the rug
and moving water. her emotions were hot
coals, spitting her fish market fragrance
with unfortunate phlegm & four-letter foulness.
her hair seaweed soft, wrapped in a wrinkled bandanna.
her eyes distant stars, surrounded by dark galaxies.
her sleeplessness grew; every evening a dimmer orange.
in the mornings
i would find her
pale body contrasted
against tan linoleum,
porcelain trophies stained
with stomach acid, always
a half-empty glass of warm water.
her tears cried more than babies.
i saw in her
mid-day-carpet-crawling existence
a destruction of previous creation,
an end to a way of life. her being
impaired by the gently growing glow
of a new soul, washing over her
20 year old form.
i cried for the classification of my faith.
huddled in the corner,
i held my love who
struggled with 5-week-old
lust. we accepted through
stormy eyes and mumbled
language that our hearts
couldn't keep another.
it was the last day of soul.
god was telling us he did exist.
creators can't stand works in progress.
waiting room television
& uninterested flips of pages
were the only sounds of the first room;
the fathers' lips were sealed.
teeth chewing nails & amplitudes
of anguish in forms of sighs
were the only sounds of the second room;
the mothers had their legs crossed.
lovers separated by a secured
entrance. behind thick glass,
nurses with courteous chatter
& cute dress passed notes
with encouraging smiles.
creators can't stand stubborn toys.
we were telling god that for now,
just we wanted to exist.
i escorted my love outside.
she was holding our
dignity in a brown paper bag.
we left with the windows
down, trying to catch our breaths
& sustain normality in our beats.
Very impactful. (if that's a word)
Full of impact. BAM BAM BAM - every stanza.
The breaks inbetween and lines in italics added emphasis nicely.
I was confused by
<font size="2" face="Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif">Wasn't quite sure about that...i escorted my love outside.
she was holding our
dignity in a brown paper bag.
also - the last 4 stanzas seemed oddly grouped... too many without that italicized break.
just My opinion...
on a side note - are you going to be a father?
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