Saturday, August 23, 2008

Elizabeth: Reprise

Every time I drink words run like a river from my limp lips. Maybe they're the tears that my eyes never shed, maybe they're the thoughts I thought were dead. I don't know anymore. Maybe you would, if you could. If I could say...I don't know maybe I would know. I love you he said, she said nothing, maybe I don't know. Or maybe she doesn't know and hope is worth waiting for, but under these orange street lights everything is "No". I hope I don't know, I hope she doesn't know. Every time I drink words like this run like a river from my limp lips, my finger tips tap clumsily away above my loose hips. I think that maybe they're the tears that my eyes never shed, the words left on my tongue...dead. I don't know maybe its all in my head, swimming from bank to bank, wandering across deserts, unprepared I'm wandering hurt and fake; drowning in front of you in your lake.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

usually i am a big fan of line breaks, but i like how the absense of them in this piece does not call unneeded attention to the rhymes and lets them serve instead as an internal rhythm that carries the reader through the poem. very nice.

Anonymous said...

your two pieces on elizabeth strike me deeply.