thetreefallsonme
Hearts are for
Lovers
Writers
Artists
Losers
Teachers
Convicts
Children
Paper
Chests
Thoughts
Love
Death
Breasts
Survival
Everyone
Maybe no one.
For sure
not he who he who steals them.
Autumn hair shifts over his ear, following the movement of his head. He looks at me.
It matches the seasonal foliage. Red lips smile.
He steps over the swamp of wet leaves clinging to its king, rotten stump. I step back; plenty of room to stay at least a mile apart.
Another step forward.
Retreat.
A white breath shot from his hot tongue, "Guess December came early."
hits the ground
hard
in patterns
like drums
there's thoughts everywhere
there's silence everywhere
there's blood everywhere
someone help me
pick these brains up
That's all I needed to know,
walking away from you.
Im not going to make eye contact
--for fear that you'd realize
I had lied.
Shiny black falling gracefully with every movement.
The deepest brown peering back.
Long strides aross the yard.
Good dog he says,
taking the ball from her mouth,
Good Scout.
His heart slammed against the inside of his chest.
His ribs and lungs cowered at the noise,
begging the heart to stop--
for fear that the cavity would cave in.
His palms, slick with sweat, patted his breast reassuringly.
There was no punishment to be had today.
of books on the floor by his leg
as he turns the page
the rain on the window gets louder
it's quiet save for the bulb above his head
these stacks of books are quiet today
out my body.
hiss.
hang it up.
repeat.
it looks so much better up there,
where I am not standing in it.
The king
Le roi
knew so much
tasted the world on his tongue
abundance on his table
skin on his chair
the gold of the sky belonging to him
for all his troubles,
to get here today,
not one could he find
to make him happy.
It sits on me
Heavy like a bird
I wish I could fly
to another setting
screen
time
place
please, sun,
help with the setting.