Untitled

I still have not decided on a title for this piece yet....

Ask me anything.
The ink will answer!
This mind is a powder-keg. These days
my pen skids along the page.
In this dimming kitchen,
your kiss sparks.
You kill me with your almost going
and coming back,
banking on my response, because you know
the best cards in the deck are always yours.
The black kettle pipes up,
answers for me. Put it on the block,
I found something better to drink in.
See, how the clock discreetly turns its face?
Lock the door, love.
The flock will be home soon.
I like the way you lick your lips
when you remove your sheep-mask.
                                    ©J.E.S.
 

Reviews

[maiarusm]

For some unknown reason I think of the lover, the one who's leaving, as a wolf. The dominant scene in this piece is that of a kitchen, and the lovers interaction. It feel homey but sad. As if the writer loves the other too much and yet unsure of the other's devotion and love. Excellent piece. Love it.