Late Night Poetry

Throats

Our throats catch frogs in
The rivers of our tears
Opening wounds we thought we had stitched and
The blood we thought we had stopped
broken branches catch our broken thoughts
And whisper them to the stray leaves in our hearts
But It's not even autumn yet
And the red and green do only to contrast
Each other
Just like we do
Opposites do attract
But we are both like the river
Running our mouths catching flies from
The frogs in our throats
Both disgusted at one another yet
We spew the same things

We don't stop to smell the roses
That we share between us
But by now they have all been cut
And maybe that was my fault
I gave too much of them as gifts to patch
The holes
But I was making a bigger space between us.  

(b.h)