"The desert bears only a scathing sun, and nothing more."
"What about mirages?"

Thursday, July 29, 2010

You Crashed Into Clouds.

You crashed into clouds,
the fluffy white sheets of my bed,
and I watched
stormy passion
spit and crackle in your eyes.

It was heat,
that drew me in,
made my own tornadoes
sputter and give way
to something
that only feels right
with you.

And now I watch clouds
being whisked around
by blue skies and
the ground blurs and disappears
beneath me.

My heart beats feel so distant,
because I’ve gone
and left seven pounds of myself
in clouds
like piles of sheets,
all twined up with you.

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"Write with our backs to the wind and our faces to the hard, bleaching sun."