Proof of Life
You wear that scent
The one you pull out for special occasions
of flowers and dreams and serious expressions
You wear those clothes
black pants white top
contrasting
light and dark
Death is the sound in the back of your throat
how you cry sob rage and grieve
how you try to explain the sadness
as your tongue seeks mine
The staleness of waiting is on your breath
a long mourning
standing around
with dark clothes and muted sounds
The urgency of sex
primal
coupling across the face of the day
as you weep a farewell
2 comments:
very nice. I like the ambiguity of the beginning and I light the play with light and dark.
I might think about taking this line out:
We fuck to reaffirm
I'm not sure you need it?
Yup, right again Moon woman, it reads better without it, thanks for that :)
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