Wishful thinking

You on your knees
blood on your teeth
pride at my feet
But aren’t you what
I love the most.
Aren’t you what I want?
You know me better
than I know myself.
If I am the singer
you are the song
from my lips, maybe
but your heart
is the tune I hum
when I can’t sleep
restless in the moon
when all the
green silver blue black sky
is star star star iridescence
the laundry list of
everything I want
to sing to you
goes down the paper
like so
down down
just like I want
you on your knees
blood on your teeth
pride at my feet

No tags for this post.

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
This entry was posted in Love Poems, Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.