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Poetry |
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nothing
There is nothing between them They’re wearing skin They’re wearing air They’re wearing a dream Wearing a nightmare They’re wearing each other They’re wearing nothing There is nothing between them A nothing that’s the start of everything Or the start of the end Between them nothing but Everything and the end He’s on top of her Shooting lies Like rubber bands At her heart Single white male lies She lies beneath him Looting silence from the dark The silence of thoughts Thoughts she shapes With her hands In his flesh Like warm wet clay Thoughts she cannot say About this thing between them This something This everything This nothing She stares at the ceiling At the shadows that tell her She’s not there Where her me should be There’s nothing He comes He goes She can feel the endlessness of him In the lean of the mattress She can feel him smiling She can feel him lying There She can feel him wearing her Out She can feel him wearing himself Wearing nothing But himself Whereas she She’s wearing him Holding his hand Prints on her body Holding his body In her empty hands Trying to hold onto his Endlessness Trying to hold onto this Something This everything Before it becomes nothing Before it becomes The nothing between them An early version of nothing was published in the litzine The Beat. |
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