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Hand to hand, his mother said,
foot to foot.
Belly to belly, he walked me in.
Lip to lip,
we saw eye to eye.

Fist to palm, his father taught--
we sparred mouth to crotch,
heart to heart.
We tried, teeth to armpit,
kissing and tickling and kicking ass.
His cats clawed.
His sister squealed.

He walked me through
doorways, broke my walls
and glued them up again.

He walked me through
the motions;
we both played the wrong parts.
Finger to finger
--mine long, his wide--
we couldn't get them right.
©2008-2009 ~OneMoreFreek
:icononemorefreek:

Author's Comments

If there was a gold medal in trying to save a failing relationship, it would be all ours. We were determined... but we only ended up prolonging it.

Comments


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:iconsufficient-cause:
I'm so sorry.
Poem is wonderful, I'm always a sucker for wordplay. One totally unwanted suggestion? It might possibly read better if you switch 'heart to heart' with 'mouth to crotch'.

--
i don't care about specifics
i'm just sticking around
cause i like when you smile
and i like when you frown
:icononemorefreek:
Ohhhh, you're so right. Thanks.

You don't have to be sorry. It was so much better in the long run... we can play better fitting parts now.

--
Everything here [link] is (a)nti-copyrighted. Please use, disassemble, and distribute as you see fit.
:iconlislelislecrocodile:
I really like this. I have nothing else to say except I think it's perfect.
:icononemorefreek:
Odd. But thanks anyways.

--
Everything here [link] is (a)nti-copyrighted. Please use, disassemble, and distribute as you see fit.

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December 21, 2008
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