Litkicks Message Board Archive

Lilacs at my Door--comments welcome

Posted to Action Poetry




Sitting alone on the floor
Waiting to see what would happen,
but darkness came with
a lilac fog that rolled into the door
and spilled into my mind.

What should I say?
He's delicate. Maybe I should say nothing at all,
or peel back layers of ripe red flesh
to reveal something pulsing
and watch his skin begin to crawl.

Those delicate layers of pretense.
He hides inside a little ivory box,
hoping it will suck the darkness away.
His delicacy makes no sense
and his roughness is a front.

I cannot know him.
My mind raced crazily to catch at his hand
or was it my hand racing
to hold his mind?
He failed to understand.

Moving lightly to the left again
a careless glance pulled my eye.
He caught me staring emptily
and snared me, knowing he'd win
the poor prize from inside my chest.

Crumpling onto a pristine
tiled floor, I watched lilac steam
rise above the shower head
and spill over the room. I sobbed
and began a thick daydream.

Beautiful eyes roamed over my
face and landed on the tip of
my tongue, one honey-coated word
caught in my throat. I asked why
he stared; I was lovely.

The receiver hung heavy in
my curled fingers as I reached to
find an expression in words,
but I could not scream
out what he thought I knew.

I wondered deliberately if he saw
what I wanted so desperately and sent
me out to be destroyed by idle words
that he flung out to beat me raw
and leave me wondering lamely in lilac
thoughts.

What should I do? He left them here, the lilacs
at the door, the card said love, and my name,
but will he crush me if he can? Leave me lying
in the truth of the matter to find out
why he sent something, it's not the same.
--violet9ish