I’m taking this tantrum
to the street
parade these flaming wrists
like drunken prophecies
drunken prophecies
why aren’t these
the goddamn gospel
why aren’t these
the rash of unwilling luck
I roll in the rain
of sleepless
sleepless what
balconies that aren’t mine
red. the color of lips
my tongue his skin
when I’m done with it
the fall from here
wouldn’t hurt too bad
I’d fly like blackbirds
Advertisements
This is such a great poem, and the line breaks are genius. I love the use of italics, and “I’d fly like blackbirds” is beautifully heartbreaking. As someone with a literary blog, I’m in love with this!
Thank you so much! I’m glad you enjoyed it, that really does mean a lot to me. There’s nothing quite like a lovely heartbreak 😉 Your blog is pretty fab as well–keeping the literary alive!