Flermigan

I wear my lies like armour. Sliding off the metal before sliding into our bed. Truth draped over my bones in the form of flesh. Sinew and bone cannot tell a lie. I refuse to speak. These lungs and the air that escapes them have been steeped in the blackness of untruths. Any breath taken or recieved is living proof. And your lips and their softness slide across my neck like the tightning of a noose. Bringing a little more death with every touch of love, of which I am unworthy. As the darkness of night envelopes us, as the quickness of your body and the force of your rhythm masks my unwanted pleasure, I am helpless. I lie, unprotected and power

I remember, quite clearly, the feeling of rain drops that were your fingertips, sliding down my back; the way the droplets curled around my hips and soaked into the top of my jeans— that has been burned into my brain. And I remember, like it was yesterday, the feeling of rose petals that were your tongue, gliding their way across the landscape of my stomach and floating between my tan skin and the softness of the cotton hiding me from the rest of the world. Still, I forget, as if it weren't real, that you love me. I can't seem to remember I don't need drops of rain or the petals of roses. I need only your fingertips and your mouth

It starts with a spark A tiny kiss that barely brushes skin Fingers like flames tickle the soft flesh just below your ear Heated breath whispering embers of words Billowing through the blackened air to melt my steel heart

I named her Alice. Alice against her will. She had forgotten the letters to her name and the numbers to her age. "But letters are so easily misplaced". She said, shaking her head. One can't disagree with that. Simple when I found her. "Numbers can come in any order"! She exclaimed, quite matter-of-factly. Her why's and you's got tangled. Swirled together in a place she called, Wonderland. How did I come to be so lucky? "Why, you opened your eyes and looked". She said, so simply. Thoughts of her strangle me, leave me gasping at truths, straws and tight-rope-wire. I clung to her hope, held on tight to her sense of wonderment

Maybe it's because I can't remember what it feels like to be young Or the fact that I can no longer make young women fall in love with me. It could be that I haven't danced in longer than I care to think about It may be that the red tank top I used to wear doesn't exactly fit the same way it used to. I know things about myself now. I've learned things, forgotten things, people, times, kisses. I have a serious case of the elevens and my grey hairs are starting to take over the black. I had an attitude and sly, little smirk that could melt hearts and break them just as easily. I know things about myself now. I repeat myself.

I'm in this place again Pacing back and forth Just waiting for you to see me. And I know it's just a matter of time. A moment or two before the yellow in your eyes pierces right through me. And I fall Again. Packing up. A place for everything. This ring, that ring. My heart and yours. There's a place for everything, you say. Train's leaving in an hour. Tracks pulling me to a place I've never been. Never wanted to go. But I know it's over. Nothing here for me. No more air for me to breathe. It's not the destination, it's the journey, you say. But I know you. You're a wonderful liar. My wonderful sinner. Every strand o

I felt my soul leave about 7 days before I died. I was driving up 93 and just happened to catch it floating out the window. There are moments when you just know. And I knew. It was only a matter of time. So few hours left to say my goodbyes. Say hellos I had been meaning to say. I love yous. Only a blink of an eye to tell the truth. And the truth was I hadn't really lived. I tried, yes. But this wasn't a "good" life. It was simply a Life. And maybe that was enough. Looking out the window that day, in that car, it was enough. Closed my eyes, rolled down the windows and felt a sudden rush of air. A breath fro

Truth be told, I've only had sex a handful of times. Minus a digit or two. I'm a child trapped inside a 30 year old's body. I am honest. But, truth be told, I am mostly fiction. I take the fantasy of you and turn it into a sex-soaked love affair that's never truly happened. Use imagination to make a memory. That is when they're best. Recollection by story telling. It's always worked because I'm scared of the reality. Life. It's harder than it seems. These days, it's harder than it seems.

Fingertip-poise and blood-soaked confidence. She tears through my skin. And she strips me bare. She sees through my autumn eyes and she knows she knows me. I love her and I like the pain she brings. I adore the screams in the night, the clenched fists and teeth. It's comforting to know that only she can make me feel this blood-lust sort of pain. And I've heard she breathes fire. And I know what they mean when they say she's poison. Pitch-fork tongue and eyes a color not found in nature. She is just my kind of poison. The way she leaves me shaking with just her words, just a little token. She is more than I could ever a