by Noemi 'Siren' Soto
There is metal where his heart should be
cold and heavy, he carries it everywhere
deep within his hollowed out chest he made himself
He used to be warm blood pumping
but now he walks with the burden of the wounded
staggering with the stench of fickle love
He licks my lips trying to heal what he made bleed
but he is shrapnel tongued
and I still have the word "beautiful" embedded in my skin
Hand in hand, we put kisses in boxes that we hid under his bed
tucked away never to be found
Only we knew it's hiding place
He broke himself down into small pieces so as not to overwhelm me
and with two fingers, he placed each jagged piece under my tongue
until he became a part of me
If I could, I would take his beating heart
and place it in my pocket
so that I may know what it is like to be truly close to him
He always kept his skin thick
so I couldn’t find my way underneath
and burrow myself within him
Arm’s length was never far enough
We shared secret moments tangled up in bed sheets like nooses
Told me how much he cared for me as he hiked up my skirt
That’s the only way to get a man to like you, you know
I tried to hold on to him
but he’d turn into a ghost to slip right through my fingers
just had to watch as he floated away from me
We were always a silent train ride home deep in thought
skin still sticky with sweat
mind swimming with regret and confusion
Trying to make sense of it all
Nowadays I watch him from a distance
careful not to step too close
He’s always knew how to make his way in
And as for me…
Well, I have become a closed fist
ready to unleash all of the bitterness he placed so sweetly inside the palm of my hand.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
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Blog Archive
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2010
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January
(34)
- Back Home
- AFTER THE HOUSE OF GHOSTS
- The Desert
- On Roads Beyond Hell
- What Children Know
- Like Dead Rabbits Burning on the End of a Cigarette
- bee of good cheer
- Timeprints
- $11.37
- Breath
- McDonald’s Job Interview
- on the day Robert Parker died
- Snow Bound
- one over the left shoulder
- How He Became A Ghost
- SNOW
- ANN FRANKING IT
- JACK
- Secrets
- REDOUBT
- Concussion
- anthem
- My 7th grade French Teacher
- AT THE EDGE
- dried food, weapons
- walking tape recorders
- IN THIS HOUSE WHERE THE PHONE RINGS RARELY
- 'Everyday Asymptote'
- BECAUSE I WAS NEVER
- THE E MAIL PHOTO OF COVE POINT
- Edge Lyric # 6
- This Broken Doorstep
- Desperados
- Rumba Man
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January
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