Distracting yourself with pretty things,
even in your dreams;
Pretty squares of fabric, and pretty girls,
Is it a dream, a reflection of reality;
your real life;
Those pretty things wanting you;
easily dismissing your wife.
Erase This Poem
Wrapped up and empty.
Pretension oozes from his pores;
He will not acknowledge his transparency.
What we see.
We want to cup his face
In our hands. Take his band of gold;
Like the ring of scotch on our night table.
Stare into his eyes. Say we love him;
despite his pretension. We desire him,
his voice, his mouth, the need to tell him truths.
The meanings will illude him;
Confused because he doesn't know
How to dance with our words. We tell him.
This is not a poem
Envisage of We
Wave her flag,
Play in her ashes.
She would not;
Embracing and never
willing to fight,
A game of tag,
We behind lashes.
She could not;
Envisage a forever,
killing our rights,