With Care of a Psychotic

by papalpigeon

 

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The way that you squeal,
during times that you are pressed

sends cosmic shivers and vibrations up my spine and down deep into my cerebral cortex.

The way that you feel— as I caress your slender neck and

grab hold of your statuesque shoulders

allows me to connect with something greater than myself,

if only for a transient, yet totally truthful moment.

I have broken you in an embarrassing fit of rage

And pieced you back together with the care of a psychotic until you were perfect.

I could tune you in, turn you up and you would turn me on

to the ethereal om that filled room when you sang.

I intended to write a poem

about my favorite guitar, but

I can’t help but think of how I miss your smile and those

Beautiful. Bold. Brown. Eyes.

And how, in their reflection,

I could see what truth is—

how I could see the shortcomings of my self.

I never intended to always be so cruel, but over and over again I guess I heard the same song playing in my head and each had a middle and a beginning, but I could never foresee the end…

Now I’m starting to think I’m simply incapable of maintaining a healthy relationship because, in my head, there are too many things that buzz and not enough things that blend.

Love Bug

Bug Love

Loving Bugs

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