by Ryan Jesena
Monday, January 14, 2002
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I am ready
and her voice,
with the chiseled wooden acoustic guitar.
closer to relief. fear in her tears. cry in some ungrateful way. loving like a lion. the bird on the violin spindle. quick feet and darting glances. in silent ways. doubting the wits of loneliness.
“Trying so hard to smile my way out of this one.”
waiting for it all to pass in time. for her time to pass. it’s going to pass. it will all pass. waiting to pass. holding out, can make us only cry. it’s simple indeed. backwards, perhaps. sharp tongue, twist of fate, and love scratches it’s bald head. the focus I gave to your brown eyes.
“Craving for the way that she lies on her bed.”
my love is crumbling down. living this way, in submission. it’s getting colder already. the lights are turning off. hearing blisters on the ivory piano keys. sharing her situation. owing me nothing. wishing for the storms to settle down. she had
done no wrong. broken in half.
“The nectar is falling slowly off the stem of this gentle flower.”
all of this can make you grow colder when it’s over.