A peach, a song

Given to the rhythm of forgiveness
when the blade hits and
they say that there was no way to predict this.
If I was living in your arms
one could say you delivered death’s kiss but
in the end it’s all on me

I held myself with limp wrists.

Given to the nature of distortion
in the cold pits,
they say a human heart is made of cords
They say

be careful because they split
like a string on your guitar like
you could turn the feeling into art,
I suggest you scream through the mic and sweat to absolve my part.

Given to the nature of dissection
it is not lit.
They say that we are meant to spark a blaze and I said miss this.
I was on the table when you met me-
my guts all on display, I said don’t test me,
get a recipe and cook me up a treat and just digest me.

Line me with the timing of contortion,
tie my lines and do it slow,
you don’t even need to force it.
Slice me up with your sharpest knife,
I’m here for it that’s sure shit –
And there’s enough of me for
everyone to have a portion.

Given to the nature of an ass like that
A juicy peach that’s bruised tastes sweet and everybody likes that.

Given to the heat beneath the mouth that eats and claps back,
I don’t have a good excuse,
I’m squeezed like juice,
I’m painted black.

6 thoughts on “A peach, a song

  1. Hi K.,

    You have a profound sense, a perfect sense unique to you and such is the poet’s task to make the sense known, be it here or there, inside or out, the whole or part, it matters not, the only thing important is rising from the depths to twist upon the page. Here I am, one says, here I am in all of my contemplation and shadow. Good luck and thanks for your words. Duke

    Liked by 1 person

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