.Counting Lovers Like Stars.

Counting lovers like stars. Candles
Burning in empty wine bottles.
Hair is pulled back, singing the blues
Once more, no longer amused and
The sun rises, blooms like a lily
In a rainbow sky. Still, it's silly,
This desire to be loved the way
I want to be loved. So each day
I play lovers like piano keys,
Leaving like a butterfly on a careless breeze.

One day, pulled back my eyelashes will rise.
The piano will burn, disappear with a sigh.
The darkness, like me, will be silent and still.
In the sun I will rise, rise until

There is a word in the dark.
And it is ugly and stark.

.Stuck In Traffic.

I am a traffic light
Red like heat
Orange heaves
Beaneath
Me
Like a world
Under
The sunset
Green lies at
The end
timid and pure
It almost makes me smile
Tooth by tooth
Like piano keys
but before the
whole song is
played
the mouth
f
a
l
l
s
shut
like
velvet theatre curtains
I'd like to
spring
these flashing traffic
lights but
it seems that
I can
never
quite make up
my
mind.

Word doodles are addictive. Peter, I blame you. In a good way.

.I Do.

As if there's a piano on your skin.

Fingers banging naughty notes
That shouldn't make sense.

But I do.

Stripes of bruises glow
Black on your thigh,
Eight kisses deep,
Each chased by a sigh.

The key to your smile changes, but your laughter is cheap;
its bitterness pounds off the glass ceiling.
When I point at
it, it thins
bubble-thick, and
POP!
I catch 22 mirrors on my tongue.

Tick, tock,
Tick, tock.
I count white lies to seduce sleep.
I don't want to dream.

But I do.