An Offering

Full

I’m full but not fed
married but not wed
to the run down notion
of our smiles.

I’m bruised but alive
rubbing cold out my eyes
moonlighting myself
through the miles.

I’m swinging past still
to find my right fill
of accusations made
true by bloated fear.

I’m eating your words
the salted bitter curds
that choke sun from
my boiling tears.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s