DOM,
believe me
the way my lips teether
to say you are
so much more
than
a lot of things i know ( orpeopleiwasteddamnedtimewithithoughttheywerethemoonbuttonightyouarethestarsgodyouareyoushouldseeitforyourselfyouknowthatsleekhairandgorgeoussmile )
but do not
be misjudged
you are not worth
of the galaxies of
endless abyss and dwarfs that
surrounds it
not Mars nor Neptune
for they are too red and too blue and too
complicated
of the modest
love you are capable
of
believe me
the way words scurry
from my lips
(truerecklessabandonfashionbecauselifedoesntsugarcoatnevershedoes)
when i
say that someday
you will find that stories
started with
"ONCE-UPON-A-TIME"
instead of
"MY-PSYCHOLOGIST-TOLD-ME"
with choked dildo on your father's part
while you throttle your neck
and x hundred kilos barbell on your
feet
a pretty collar for your smile with its
shit-assured silk spewed
from your mouth
"IM-OKAY"
like vomit of disdain words
that you couldn't stop
believe me when i say
you will hardly remember
the day you
got down on two knees
and plea
is all that craved to
your throat
spur of "BOY YOU AIN'T THE
ONE" chant that sneaks
after midnight curfew
to your head
hand
toe
and thoughts
you will hardly remember
those late night
memories of baby
in a cradle
tender hands and
soft coo's
beautiful mouthpieces
but wouldnt do you
YOU ARE READING
These Imperfections
PoetryOf unspoken verses and leftover thoughts. { -- In which Lio tries to write a lot of precious things. }
