burning buildings

You kiss just like rust on my old bike;
Slowly, surely, engulfing like
a mouse down the throat of a snake.

// alternatively, just a poem about different sorts of crazy with different sorts of people.

You taste like metal between my teeth,
just so you know.
Like tar on my tongue, sticking
and tripping
and kicking me around,
broken bottles on the ground.

You kiss just like rust on my old bike;
Slowly, surely, engulfing like
a mouse down the throat of a snake.
And I paint over you, but
it's just never the same look,
and you don't kiss alike twice.

You are a hurricane
between my turned-out toes;
You like untying my shoe laces
and laughing at me falling down.
And you pull me close,
just as you push me away.
I laugh with blood 
running through my gums. Yup,
you're a hurricane, maybe a tornado - 
making me dizzy
but keeping my eyes on you.

You slip an arm around my waist
just as you stick a foot out across my path.
You open the door for me
just as you scare me from behind it.

And I laugh
(with blood in my gums)
and walk after you:
second-hand docs trailing after
worn out high-tops.
Because you're alive as you're dying.
Because you like pressing bruises blue
and you like making crescent cuts in my arms
with your ragged nails.
And I can't help letting you.

I don't love you
but I love who you are - 
ratty pink t-shirts and frayed jeans,
full of black oil and hot sun,
leaking from your fingertips.

You smile and I tilt my head,
a tree bending in a hurricane,
And you lean in close,
your every eyelash driving me crazy,
making me want to hop in a plane
and drive straight into the eye
of the storm. Because -
Because you make me crazy,
insanely insane,
and somehow, that lets me
drive you a little crazy too.

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed