May 18, 2003
Pretentious Ramblings
These safety pins in my skirt stitch through denim and soul, it seems. I'm always pieced together, sometimes welcoming your eager hands, wedging puzzle pieces. Today, today I'd have your heat iron me out seamless, creaseless, dreamless.
You'd like that, wouldn't you? I know how to plug you in. I can turn you on.
Words are falling and failing with a tongue sugar thick, able only to curl around yours. I fashion sentiments, carried on a breath half formed, retreating into sighs that might have been your name.
I've got black lace creeping up my thighs and a silk worm unraveling in my soul. I feel pretentious enough to weave a canopy for our marriage bed, and I won't mind sleeping alone for a few years. You can pretend it doesn't exist, my love, but I'll fold down the blankets for you every night until you pretend it does.
astera at 12:08 a.m.