One of your lips got caught in the door,
It shuts smoothly now, not like before.
Begging to be noticed, pleading to be heard,
I am sick of the night’s excuses,
But I savor her last words,
Watching as they descend, isolating speech and thought,
If I had known, your exit line faltered and got caught,
I would have saved it, somehow.
It is a spacious house,
With curves like a woman,
Balconies and secrets,
Not so easy to come by.
I make a living, you wait
Rolling carpet after carpet,
Resting your numbed feet.
You have left out the cheese,
For the mice, or my ego,
In the dark the cubes align,
Like bricks for a wall,
I do not stall or have second thoughts,
I keep them safe from you.
I greet your wild eyes,
Tracing the arcs in your ruined face
Remembering our history,
Before the selfish tourists,
Who wanted only flashes ,
Of who we were .
Qahliddddddddddd