Our Picture.

I will write about us 
When this unearthly hour 
Gives way to the picture 
Of You and I dangling our feet 
From a sunlit bower. 


I will write about how 
You would read my sullied toes 
And etch a sorry smile 
On your timid brow. 


I will write about my 
Hauled up skirt brushing against 
Your flaccid fingers 
As we watched the free sky. 


But most of all 
I will write about the way 
You render your love 
That makes this picture 
Me,survive the daily gall.

Another train of thought derailed,

Another page torn to motes of white,

On the floor and now in my head,

As I shut my eyes and seek the light.

Fuck,I can't write. It's a disease.