We rhymes with lonely.

Entered into the "-hard love-" contest.

Sorrow drips from the fresh ink
of love letters lost
in the turbulence of mailbags.

Out it drops!
Into the gutter, a miscarriage
from ball-point pens

perusing passion's tight canal.
She contorts as if laboring,
the mailbox still empty

besides the junk: the sticky
film on artery walls;
cholesterol.

There it is, that tight,
tingling
tremor in the left arm,

the pressure on the chest,
the profuse
sweat.

Cardiac arrest.
Her: still lonely,
fetuses

piled up like dung.
Him: still lonely,
feces

clinging to his lungs.
The smell
is like a skunk:

only heart-shaped
tomatoes,
squeezed

with
Together
can

make
the
juice

that
removes
the

I
in
stink.

Reviews

[N3v3r_2_L@t3]

Okay, I was confused the first time I read it, but then I reread it, and it makes more sense. But I like poems like that, that confuse me, because that means there is a deeper meaning, that the author is connected to, and maybe we don't need to know all that. Or, you could have just written it, none of it pretaining to your life...but anyways, I liked the part where the person (not sure which one it was) goes into cardiac arrest. You did a great job on this. Keep up the good work, and I hope to see more from you soon=]

[Prose-full]

i like this...such a different read around the cafe...
this is great definitely a contest placer..
great write......