Crumbling Dictionaries and the Beds You Leave BehindA Poem by V.B.The longest word in this poem is cigarettes.
look at you now:
sliding off this mattress so goddamn deftly you might be able to convince a less observant stranger that even a single one of the rooms your tattooed feet have touched in the last 20 years had a floor that was made of lava. you know that there's no name for the silence you keep while you escape through every furniture labyrinth that the morning dark of random motels has to offer... ...right? either way, i bet you realize that i know my way home less well than your lies know their way around the cigarettes you smoke down to the filter, and then some, but i guess i just wanted to show you that it wouldn't take more than a match and three syllables at a time to nail you to a page and set you on fire. these dumps charge me by the hour. these nights charge you by the sin. © 2011 V.B.Featured Review
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Added on April 9, 2011Last Updated on April 9, 2011 Author
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