Swat

I watch you like a cat watches a fly

indifferent

but capable of eating you alive

Advertisements

Terminal Grace

Someone once said they loved me

but I can’t be precise

about the identity

of so many

palms up, eyes pleading

Please believe

paper heart pinned to his sleeve

beseeching my acceptance

to fall for romantic illusion

their names and faces merge into a dirty smear

on my clean white sheet of needy gullibility

these givers of everlasting, soul consuming adoration

It may have been the fifth

or was it the sixth

that painted the indelible

cynical

smirk

in permanent painful

broken hearted marker

on my inside face

the personal one that can see through the sham

with terminal grace

 

 

 

Fancy Footwork

An empty handed sleeveless raver

making rosebud wishes in the park

thoughts running rings around the crazy moon

full and proud of all my folly

this licentious cannibal of the heart

taught me much about the dancing

never tango in the dark