Thursday, November 29, 2012

my eyes become the moon

Oh I remember this one:
Hanging from the barstool
That waits just inside the door;

I remember the positioning:
                And scintillating.
And dangling
Like that space between your legs…
So appetizing,
                (Is that my mouth watering…?)
You’re not even trying,
But I'm stumbling,
Over words and off-topic.

And I remember
Something funny,
Happening on …facebook
But I can’t
…for the life of me
Seem to find myself to care.

And I remember
To the sounds of someone breathing
To whisper-wheeze
And loving-squeeze
As lips brush wet and succulent,
You bring me to my (breathless) knees.

And I remember
The way that every muscle danced
The way we each would writhe and sing
And rise across the bed…
All glowing white,
Inside my (throbbing) head.

And Winter comes with passing dreams
Awakened eccentricities
To lap and lick my dripping mind…
It’s fogging up the mirrors.

And ashtrays are a Fire Hazard
Igniting stubs of Electric Ashes
Burning Every (where) It touched,
(It’s) consuming me again.

The colder it becomes outside,
The hotter this apartment grows:
                As soon as I am Home Inside,
                                It’s off with all my clothes.

And I remember this one:
Slipping Into
Something a bit more
Hang my purse from back the barstool
Waiting just inside the door;
And I remember the hilarity:
                Of facebook innuendos,
                And how tit-illating telling them,
That Black Leather
Was my Imperative.
That it was…
Dangling -
- No,
 hanging on
To the backs of doors by knobs,
Or Chairs
With backs that supported straps
“Every night. --
                                                                -- I do this (withmypurse) every night.”

‘Cause there’s that space between the words,
That hitches with your sighs.
And with Winter comes the fear,
                That it’s a dream.

And I remember
The way that every Heart’s beat danced,
The Way you make It sing;

You bring me to my knees.

And kissing you ’s a (Fire) Hazard
Igniting burned out crevices,
Of hollowed, jaded, dried-up
Electric Ashes,
                                My Heart becomes:
Burning everywhere You touched;
Consume(Mating) Me Again.

And I remember
Something clever,
But I can’t
…for the life of me
Seem to find myself to care.
Nothing exists beyond your Lips,
My fingers twist inside your curling hair;
                                                Drawn up into Loving Arms
And Breathing,
Breathe a sigh.

In shaking, silent laughter
The Air
Grows warm and fills me…
And my eyes be(come) the moon.


“my eyes become the moon”
a poem by Meghan Johnson
written November 29th, 2012

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