mouths drawn like swords.

by March 1, 2016 0 comments

in the lion-hearted morning,
we roll over in bed,
exposing daggers hidden the night before.

we arise to a love like an arms deal,
you will die painfully,
i will die painfully,
both of us rich,
both of us at war,
but this pact will stiffen my spine,
exacerbate your zeal.

there are empty planetariums spinning galaxies for no one,
and here we are, unable to look up,
hands at our sides,
our mouths drawn like swords;
a whole universe wasted by the dilation of your pupils,
and the bated breath that comes with an honest emotion felt between liars.

the only way to make anti-venom is with venom,
and so there is hope in the dna of betrayal.

i do not trust you,
nor you i,
and therein lies the promise of a bloody alliance,
but still,
we break pacts like hearts in the night.

we circle and swoop like falcons,
talons out,
razor wings,
this will end badly for both,
one will die on top of the other,
but no one will live to claim victory.

warriors thrusting sun shields,
hiding gleaming swords behind our fear,
we retreated until our backs met,
and then we entered the truce of a new dawn together.

if i die with my dick out,
know i was not unprepared,
i am an opportunist with my time,
and i know what’s coming.

in the field at late afternoon,
you are my crown,
and my assassin.

because no matter what,
you’re both on my mind,
and in my head.

we dance around each other
like fighters in a death waltz,
we play chess with body parts,
and we play to win.

love happens along the way maybe, for a while,
but the goal is to dance with your opponent,
and know your place is with them on the battlefield,
because to love is to spar on equal footing.

seasons are not enemies,
but burned-out cycles of orange and green,
of color and decay,
working together to inspire us,
to ensnare us,
and to kill us.

so do not forget, my honored adversary,
my wounded viper,
my snarling love,

by another name
is war.

editors note:

With mutual victory and defeat assured; truly, all’s fair… – mh clay

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