Cue the Music; Blanket Seams

Too many days I’ve raped this dictionary
Tearing Webster’s hymen
High pitch rhymes get violent
Ripping thighs and stitching them from abdomen to spine. Then-
Let them mend to hear you cry when spinning lines that might split
Gripping on the hemmed up seam to see your lumbar vertebrae
How they shake when words escape
Draping down your tongue and mouth and placed upon my dinner plate
Taken from your lungs to stuff my ego when our winter drapes
Racing sirens light the pavement’s paint in wasted haste to save you
Patients wait
They hate you
Scrape your place from memory to clean a lane to wade through
Thank you
But I can’t do it
To take our time and write it out would waste my day
So screw it
This avenue has brewed my fumes
I’m through
So cue the music

Our bond takes form in text
Perplexed you feel confined
Restricted minds decide a love is bound by page and rhyme/
A different frame of sight will find your grace when seen by me/
Can blind the eye of countless men when penned for all to read/
Air seeps from lungs with every passing touch your hands impart/
When love is acted out it’s seen as porn
In words it’s art/
In darkness all the boundaries of my flesh can find their peace/
The sweetness of your skin
The scent of limbs within my reach/
The morning blink of waking time displays frayed blanket seams/
Each written verse that beats your drum becomes a faded dream/
Blatant empty sheets think of your face and turn to laugh/
Mapping all your attributes
The tune
On them
Falls flat/
Grasping to the mattress for a remnant of our night/
Like all my other days this one is barren
Stripped by light/