how i loathe my love
The Who That You Are
Poetry
Poetry
Lyndsey Coleman
Linda Drattell
Pleasanton, California, USA
Perfection? Who but an enemy alluring? in cahoots with all my dreams, everything that beckons in the night Matriarch of Bones with fear-bearing hips cobalt skin matte and silver sword unsheathed precise are the lines that give way to Your form crisp nineties, a fresh forty-five, a fibonacci face i don Your gaze like a life jacket that smile trickling up the corners of Your lips in a temporal reverse Your throat buoyant with laughter mine, heavy with water weight
Pleasanton, California, USA
oh, how i loathe My Love do You write to me? or just dance, a halfstep, a half-mile ahead? bloody palm grazing my own am i anointed, lying just beneath You? i’m asking, back to breast but my heart beats alone against Your ribcage and mine any pupil is hollow but Yours are vacant the eyes, the hands of The Beholder, and their capriciousness, how they grasp nothing, letting all fall through stalling on fingertips, sneaking past the light
oh, how i loathe my love i chase You, molding my feet to Your footsteps, stumbling over the moonlight winking off Your shoulder blades, and into a boot-print crater its walls meet my eyes as i rise again Your laughter flitters about the forest above, twisting through the trees
110
You know who you are When you surrender pretense When you stop self-assessing Stuck on past tense When you realize your life Isn’t all that intense As you think it must be. You relinquish all defense Because none is needed Agency’s your voucher Best simply to heed it. When you shed the frayed mask Then you’ll have succeeded In setting yourself free.
