your sales pitch
a curve ball off plate
swing every time;
it’s the eyes across the green
meet mine,
disarmed and the bat falls across my knees
i believe you,
ready up
a curve ball off plate,
your eyes are honest
your hands are not
Tag: Literature
lonely chamber
i believe you only get one
one real shot
at changing the way the world spins;
so will wait
finger on the trigger
eyes pierced into a lens
sweat falling off my brow
ancy as fuck
watching the fire;
knowing there is only one in the chamber-
it won’t come back i’m not ms. jolie
so i have to make this count-
this world wasn’t meant to spin
counter clockwise
the way; the only way
it wasn’t the beautiful eyes
your beautiful smile
what you love, intrest
the way your cheeks shine when you laugh,
i mean really laugh
the way your voice perks up when you talk about something you love
when you talk about your future
how you want to impact this world
the way you touch me
the way you walk
the way you talk
the way you love me
it’s how you saw me;
the way your beautiful mind puts me together like a puzzle
a fighter
every inch, was not a promise
gloves without the ring
night without the moon
yet, we are howling.
wanderer without a road
ready for adventure.
and you gave me the map
taught me to read the legend
handed the pen to script the legend.
the spine in my back
the knuckles of my fist
the blood i spill
honesty
you see it in the eyes:
the home page of the face
arrows being released over the wall
wallowing around:
the wall never helped anyone,
and now
you took an arrow to the knee
writing my favorite poem
i found you;
a version of the same book i’ve known
but i read it different
your lines
your words
bring my skin bubbling hot
trembling under your simile and your smile
never meta
and i see your metaphor as scripture
and i want to carve you
polaroid
there is a plan
guidelines for the tour
and mine
is shaped like a polaroid
a white outline
around a dream
a few people
a few books
mostly love
and a memory
vision of utopia
i see you;
like i see myself
you are a mirror
you raise my hand
i tilt your face
your finger on my lips
my hands on your waist;
as i walk away you pull me back
as you wander around i’ll be your map
i’ll blink and you’re gone
blink and you’re back
choking gale
you talked
and i walked
i’d never let the air between us
hold our throats hostage
suffocate that will-
it’s the last thing;
i’d never;
most of the time i stutter and mutter
and wonder what’s on your mind
for i’m on the moon and i’d never leave you behind
fixating on tonight
i’m not a white knight
too many stains from rain
shooting through my brain
like i lost game seven an champagne
is rainin’ down-
it’s the last;
never.
convict
everytime i open the door
you jump leap claw
try to get free;
everyday, i stop you-
you bite cry scratch
everyday i wonder,
why i stop you
Saint's Muse 