singovermyradio

What can I say that two lovers have not whispered Into each others ears? I can compare you to the blissful tears Flowing from my eyes like a summer storm Every time you cure my worries. A kiss from your lips is like a drizzle Of sun soaked droplets Warming my face. When you emerge from the shower I brace myself for the brisk waterfall Dripping from your head as your lean to kiss my silent body. When the first Native American Sang his rain song We were the first two droplets to fall from the sky. No, no… Those will not do. I love the way your eyes widen, Watching me saunter to your bed, Ripping off layers of clothes,

I love when you look at me in the morning As the sunlight penetrates the curtain slits And casts serrated streaks across my skin. In that moment I am not an ice queen, I am not worrying about work, or hiding behind a façade of astrology. I am the woman with messy hair and bad breath, Oversized pajamas, and a compulsion to checking the time. I am the woman grasping for your arm to drape over my boney shoulder, Looking for the crevice in your curled body where I can angle mine And become cocooned with you in threads of silk and cotton. I am the woman in that moment remembering every past love lost And praying to some false sen

In the backseat of your dad's car We spoke of black holes, ghosts, and God. You asked which one I believed in the most. "Black holes because they're attached to the other side of the drier and steal my socks." I didn't know you never owned one, I'm sorry for that, And for the time I paid for your meal In front of your friends. My father always taught me to be generous. I was fifteen and had never heard of pride. I discovered it when you kicked dirt in my face As I tried to wash your feet for church, And I spat in your hair (Not that it made a difference). I prayed twice as hard that day. It must have worked because You threw

I'm by your side Watching you crush me With your smile. Distorted in the moonlight, We walk through the rain. The puddles reflect my body: A twisted barbwire, loose chunks Of skin, a bloody mess. It is getting harder to mask what I feel Inside. My dignity is melted into The cup of coffee you swallow In the morning, There is no asking if you still love me You smother your eggs in ketchup, Avoiding my gaze, Shutting the door behind you, Creating an omnipotent slam Masking my foiled attempt to Scream. Waiting for your return, I read romance novels Trying to find the right words to say To you, But you never came home. S

Ah yes! There's the song with the familiar twang. The radio does no justice to the way you sang it In my mother's kitchen. Your cowboy hat Fell awkwardly over your eyes Searching the crowd For a familiar face. "Ah yes!" you said, "There's the gal who started it all. Ain't she a beauty, fellas!" Ah yes! You found me. The crowd was whistling and hollering As your fingers plucked those strings Like your hands plucked the Peaches from my trees. Ain't no other New Yorker can sing Missouri bluegrass like you.

Alone in the room I scratch at the walls. Blood from my fingernails Leave paths as the paint Strips in thin peels. Remember when we planned that room In my house? I hated the green you chose. Reminded me of the unripe bananas Your mother ate, Or that gaudy brooch Your Wife Wore for special occasions. I was your special occasion For those Friday nights after work, When your wife got her hair done, Self conscious of those grey roots. I pranced over for a sultry dance Curtains opened Naked in your living room. Your mother was naked in the nursing home. The cheap robe partially tied in the back, Her saggy, worn body flo