Catharsis has no room here

I’ve been thinking about you. You’ve been here or there, in my unconscious.
Unbeknownst to me, I’ve been writing about you. Mending pathos with pros.

The alchemy is shameful. I am – I was – a good lover.
But, I never embraced novelty too well.
My banality feels out of place – on your ears – on your heart.
Brooding in a room in which room to brew is scarce.

This is why I am mute.
This is why the gab is drowning in stale air.

Catharsis has no room on your sheets.
It’s smothered by your pillow; buried in trite.
Waiting to be caught by receding breath and ambush us during my post potency exhale.

I see you hear the ghostly chatter treading above limbo. All the heard and not-so-heard phrases trapped in dismay while we live on. Looking at what they have lost:

An ear easy to the pillow.
A place in conversation.
Intimacy easy on the shoulders.

The room is too full to say all that I need to.
The light needs to be dimmed for me to explain because, darling, I get embarrassed being naked in front of you. I have open wombs tender to your sight:

The laceration on my chest.
The limp of my tongue.
The impotence of my convictions
The silence in my voice

Novelty is on your pillow; where I used to be.
I was – I am a good lover.
But, I embrace banality to easily.
My Catharsis feels out of place – on your heart – on your ears.
Brooding in a room in a room in which room to brew is scarce.

One Comment

  1. チューブトップビキニ

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