Sunday, November 23, 2008

Sunshine Is Passive

[working on the title. (It could be worse. the title used to be "Lady, You're a Pimp". I get the idea I had behind that, which I'd like to still capture, but it doesn't really suit the piece, I felt after coming back to it later). feel free to give suggestions, show love or throw hate at the current one]

On a broken day
Where trees hang low
tired with sighs

You came to me
a constant no
that somehow rectifies

Entreaties and gifts
were not seeds you’d sow
they leapt like tears from my eyes
into your arms
when you turned to go
or return to a place never left
and somehow I died
and somehow I died
when I gave to you
what we couldn't feel
when you didn’t know

Though you never came
the weight of you did
balanced on my torso at night
and your fingertips ran
across the lids of my eyes
who'd swallowed all that they had cried.

My hand could’ve fit in your smile
Before you softened to sweet
And became like the butter on
Freshly made cornbread
Enriching all that you touch
Introducing my tastebuds
To gold
Like the summer did sand to the sun.

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