Sorbet Poem #2

The way her words mingle on her tongue like a forgotten language
Her lips pressed together
Puckering
As if her existence were a fault line and her breathing a city
Up and down like rooftops
Uneven

And still when it flat lines like those puckered wrapped around a cigarette steadily pulling in the smoke
She smiles, her imagination running rampant as the rings curl around her finger
She was never materialistic
Finding it hard to enjoy the shit her family bought
Yet still managing a thank you at the thought,
creating a small rift as her breathing whispers in my ear the smell of smoke ringing in my nose
The same way her curls ring 'round her finger subconsciously

She is a blur
Dancing in the moonlight before disappearing
She is a star
Glowing like there's no tomorrow
A supernova explosion as her lips press against mine
It's like worlds collide and I know I'm not worthy of her

A queen meets a pauper who can't do much more than write about her
As the rhythmic beat of a metronome and a defensive gesture of truth make its way to my lips
My breathing is like the city
Up and down like rooftops a finger pressed against my fault line and the ring of fire.
The city crumbles.

M.R.

(edited by K.B)