and here I wait, again
dangling left and lost
imagining intentions somehow aligned
our last error in a string of
unfathomable events compressed
into weeks, dragging us by our limbs
through shadows of time
with our swords at the ready
could we ever resolve ourselves
after the wake of destruction
and remnants of death
could we navigate the maps, and
how could you ever choose
me over twisted synonyms
and the existential loneliness
you covet like fine liquor
but you, an illuminated entrance
pulling me into the hope of
your soft palms, seraphic
lines sliding off of your sharp
tongue, pressed firmly against my neck
slipping beneath my breasts
as much the wind as a wolf,
though it was she who
pushed you back as I threw open
all of the doors, removed my clothes
and for a moment,
obliterated your armor
© 4.2.2017 heather brager
(Art, Lauren Marx)
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