cafe latte | poetry | writing
You may have
felt me before this day
in sweet ways
that make men
give me their cards
at music stores,
chase me out
of grocery stores
for dates, free drinks
at bars claiming its fate.
You know, I never
stop running
and who knows now
if I wake up tomorrow
or the next day
if I will run toward you
with these demons at my back
angels in my blood
and this pen,
this fucking pen,
filled with my disease,
how it makes me bolt,
pour out letters
think quick, breathe heavily
as coins clang, women laugh,
phones beep, and here I sit
in my comfort, writing zone
next to another soul mate
eyeing me with jealousy
as my eyes never leave my page
and these walls surround me
and that girl across with her annoying
laugh
still does not make me lose my mojo;
your messages, I’m not answering,
my images are just that constant
disillusion of reality.
You have to lie on your side
elbow propped up
and mimic me; stare right back
as all the pictures fade, disappear
into the soft soil
at our feet
and the only sanity
lies in an insane asylum,
definitely not here.
Comments:
6
Loove the one. You made coffee spread havoc and charm us with its fury:)
Thanks! Another one coming up.
You were clearly born to write Chrissy.
Wow. Thank you for that heartwarming compliment. That means so much because most times don’t know where I’m going with the poems!!
Whatever the direction Chrissy, for me the focal point of your two most recent poems is how you express you love of/need to, write.
That is absolutely true. -)