When the sun beams through
the kitchen window
and I’m washing pots that aren’t mine
I reminisce times
that give me tingles.
There’s not a single moment
I could define
or emotion I could refine
but still I shiver
in the sublime rays that graze
my face
as I scrub and rub and lace
bubbles with haste
in the grace of knowing
it’s all over.
I never got those pinprick stars
over any laughs
when I went sober.
I’m bored if I am
but God please forbid boring.
I’m out lording over bodies outlawing
explain I’m storing
throwbacks of my own
reckless touring –
gnawing gums turned open and yawning
but I wouldn’t give
back the world
I’ve spent years working
on making safe.
I place the plates in straight lines
the spoons, the forks, the trays
in pretty patterns
and it’s like I’ve taken ecstasy.
What was is now
mess to me.
By Lyric Deep.
Lyric Deep™ 