'Ington

We filled houses with wavering bodies-

Handfuls of

 sound waves

Thrown into

my face

Soon became a waterfall,

There, we let ourselves drown;

Webs of loose words cradled us

While filling my lungs with (loves)

It was one of those days

Where our backs and the musty walls

Held hands along with us

And the sensation of falling,

Repeating overandover,

To the point where it had a meaning again.

We're only getting older here,

Stress lines eat up my hands

and the air is indecisive

You wrote your complaints all over my arms,

Promising me I'll cherish each one.

I do.

Reviews

[Winslow Des Totes]

Wow. This is powerful and evoking, yet the diction and that final word are almost haunting. Overall, well done. :)