02 December, 2013

I Can't Figure You Out

All our love
and all our secrets
line wicked, neoned bar walls,
subject to deadlines and hunger.

And your truths
and their boredoms
equate to a great cinnamoned
warmth, ready to celebrate.

All our love
dispatched and patchworked
and seasoned truantly,
tastes like a decade.

And your fears
and my anxiousnesses
wash off in pyramids with
bubbles and action.

No comments: