Poem 568

The words you speak
Lie lazily on your tongue
Compressing from the inside out,
Depressing from the inside out,
And I can taste them,
Each time we kiss.
Slobber from sobbed stories,
Mingling idly on my lips,
Taking refuge on my neck,
Getting lost in my hair

I don't like them anymore,
Not the sounds
Drenched in feeling
And sick summer sweat,
Or the taste of your spit,
Or the stench from the stains,
That you leave on my skin.

I don't like that I need to put the
training wheels back onto a bike,
that just don't fit.

I'm sorry, baby,
I just don't want words that stick.

Untitled and Unfinished

Living in a disillusioned
Version of the truth
Rhyming, writing, thoughts that
Echo feebly
Barely shaking the fingers
Typing, printing
Papers tattooed with
Nonchalant ideas
A disillusioned
Version of the truth,
My truth.