Mente Mezcla

Sitting on the dock of the bed, The wind contains me from your open French doors (the opposite of my fire) Next to you, Picture windows framed above Free against the Colorado night sky... Starry mountain high We shake our butts nature nude Skin on skin Rustling Aspens just starting to Crisp A musical soundtrack for our giggles And the lottery we’ve supposedly won Though I still question if I could be enough Or if you are Or if or if or if... We pass out. And despite myself, I dream ( you are conspicuously missing, though your hand rests gently on my thigh) Instead, I am soaring through those trees Above it all and onto the night sky Like a Chagall Angel Ready to blow a trumpet, blast it loud Charging Gabriel So strong Michael drops his sword And Azrael wakes the dead. I look back at you, us Sleeping And crave that slumber Crave what is to come So I climb back into my skin With hope for a me, honest to me For once.

I never thought when we chose towels, rather I chose towels and you the house with the garage, purposing our most purposeful roles ...I never thought that I would be here standing behind myself right now in a mirror looking at the tile in my new place My new place and thinking, how could there have been this foresight? actually how could there Not have been this foresight? Why do these towels match this bathroom, when they never did ours? and that lollipop silk nighty, the pink i was so sure of the luna de miel colored syrup proportioned in perfect complex measure madonna and whore, the one you didn't understand It too matches this space So who were we when we made the us decision? because it certainly is not us now.

This door is marked private, If I let you in Where will you stash your ink-stained sin It could be small dogs barking into caves Brave, I hear that motive rumble motorcade Invective, stunning and worthy of a wink Sink into me honest I’ll let you know what I think