Birds On a Wire

there's this boy...

You smell like broken glass and laundry in June.

 

I want to gulp any water that tastes

Like the sound of your voice after we’ve kissed.

You wear warm blue eyes like a deep violet bow tie,

Elegant, moonlit orbs that whisper

Secrets into the hair at the nape of my neck.

 

I breathe you in and hope

That you never let anyone trample

The fields of daisies that roar in your raw throat.

Whisper into my mouth the words

That come to you in the witching hour.

 

And yes, my answer is yes, yes, yes.

We can pretend that we’re from the fifties

Wearing evening gowns and tuxedos

And we can slow dance (an excuse to breathe

Closer to your scent) in the parking lot

To Frank Sinatra on vinyl.

 

I hope that you never let anyone

Rip the pages out of the moleskin

That you keep in your back pocket.

I’ll cup the words in my palms, like fireflies

And tuck them into mason jars to keep them alive.

 

Trust me to splatter paint your white carpet,

Tangle your amplifier chords,

Wrinkle your pressed t-shirt and press

My scent into the crevices instead.

And don’t put it in the laundry

With your bed sheets. I fear that as you clean them,

You’ll wash away semblance of me in little bits,

Like birds flying away from a wire.

 

You smell like broken glass and me in August. 

Reviews

[zainul]

Overwhelmed by the beauty and diversity of imagination.
Where did you get such magical words to portray your love!
Love the whole piece.
Each line is a multicolored gem.
Still,love these lines as special:
"I’ll cup the words in my palms, like fireflies
And tuck them into mason jars to keep them alive."

[Dana Alsamsam]

i guess when you're falling for someone, the words come just a tiny bit easier... thank you so much for reading and for your always insightful reviews!

[zainul]

You are correct.
I appreciate your lovely interpretation.
I really felt very glad to read your wonderful poem.:)