Crush Poem #1
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She says my nom de guerre.
Her finger slices across the skin of her neck.
You’re dead and you’re mine.
Truths foreplay a lie.
We soft target each other, not barely.
I break cover in her mouth.
These are my front lines.
We can’t stop the world, so we postpone it
with wounds licked clean and clear.
Somewhere missies look for other missiles.
Light flashes off her armor lying on the living room rug.
I debrief.
I loose cannon.
I mark something inside we can’t read.
Our salvation is death, but not this one.
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.
.
.
<< Home
She says my nom de guerre.
Her finger slices across the skin of her neck.
You’re dead and you’re mine.
Truths foreplay a lie.
We soft target each other, not barely.
I break cover in her mouth.
These are my front lines.
We can’t stop the world, so we postpone it
with wounds licked clean and clear.
Somewhere missies look for other missiles.
Light flashes off her armor lying on the living room rug.
I debrief.
I loose cannon.
I mark something inside we can’t read.
Our salvation is death, but not this one.
.
.
.
.
<< Home
