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Array
(
[sid] => 161798
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Leaving Picket Fences
[time] => 2010-08-14 11:02:54
[hometext] => You think I'm holding my tongue to keep you deafened, I'm pressing stillness up against your eardrums and holding my breath so that the crimson rising in my cheeks looks something like anger, and you'll never know the truth.
[bodytext] => I know you better than twice mapped constellations, I've wound your curves a thousand nights, like country roads crumbling along the verge. I know the breathless tremble of your lips when the ground shakes, and how the dip above your collarbone pools trepidation. [You think I'm idealising the canvas of your throat, magnifying the vistas of your skin until they're blossoming and abstract, until they're billowing and beautiful at the corner of my senses.] I know you'll cry each day for me to drum fingertips against the milky white flesh of your thigh, oh but darling, it wouldn't be good enough if you didn't have to beg. I know you'll utter curses into crumpled linens when I leave you writhing, begging salted pillow cases for just one more press. [You think I'm too far past wanting to sink into your pores and breathe fire through your marrow, to throw desolate bones into roaring infernos and drag you screaming feet first into the belly of the flame.] I know that the skin pulled taut over your jutting spine will bristle with goosebumps each time I walk away, and the hollow you feel in your stomach will fill the vacancy in your heart. I know you'll call me back just to breathe ragged lust into my veins, and peel desire from my nicotine smeared lips, you'll confuse love with hate and you'll damn my wandering hands in breathless prayer. [You think I'm holding my tongue to keep you deafened, I'm pressing stillness up against your eardrums and holding my breath so that the crimson rising in my cheeks looks something like anger, and you'll never know the truth.] I know that you're falling apart and you'd rather press your forehead to shattering glass at 59 miles per hour than cradle it in your palm. I know you'll tear yourself apart and leave your aorta strewn across the globe rather than sink your feet into lush earth and sprout roots of home and love and safe. [You think I'm too alone to make promises of picket fences and driveways.] I know you'll never stop running. [comments] => 5 [counter] => 222 [topic] => 48 [informant] => Aikaterine0 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 9 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => EmotionalPoetry )
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