Tremble

"Tremble"
[I wrote this poem a while ago, perhaps about 7 or 8 months ago. Didn't really know where it was going, but it ended up as this. Funny, I don't find myself that romantic, but...]
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You had a desert forsaken spine I could never set straight
The sand dunes of my person
Wanted to smooth into
You're an oasis
My evening eyes lingered on the crescent of your figure
Out my mind
And I swore I centered your bones
The day that she broke them
But I kept my own covered because I knew how to be safe
And you were always just a fracture
One fraction away from being whole
I cried out porcupines from the fragments of your cactus needles
The creases in my chain link armor
Proved to be canyon depths
Lodged in your valley
You said centered bones were the synonyms
To perfect
But you didn’t know how flat
They still were—
My help was your antonym
So the whips of your whispers abused my body like riptide
Every uncalled for action
Elongated our estrangement
Back to back,
Your damaged spine was growing again
Though I'm sure you'd never been anything
But leaden
Your pain had been lessened into withdrawal
Perhaps I'm not as safe as I thought I’d be
And I climbed the mountains that were your cheekbones
Became dehydrated by the dryness of those eyes
Just searching for a way to get close to you
I now tremble at the touch of thimbles
Because I suppose I’m not right
For long-term relationships
If we had only spent a day together
Chasing the sun until it burned out white
We would have succumbed to dust;
Wouldn’t that have been enough?
To dust,
We should have returned already
We could’ve been childhood lovers
On and off lovers
For the time being lovers in the midst of strife
Even star-crossed cross-eyed lovers
But not the wishing-we-were lovers
That we seem to be
In my sleeping state
Our ashes become soft powdered snow angels
Dreaming of a heaven
Where sand dunes could cry
Yet when I awoke your tenor told me
I could not quench your thirst for hydration
The desert can drink relentlessly
One gulp does not satiate more than a minute minute
And I do not belong with the bonded, bosomed beehive
Called your love
The discordant chords of muffled punches
Chafe me like coal-mining cart rides do
I’m being plunged into your masochistic melody
I hear the contra-tempo of your consciousness
Pounding a rhythm of symphony into words
Wood-wind instruments that were your braces
Burden my back
As they once did to you
My percussion beats a rhythm of wasted potential
The lack-luster filled silence summarizes
My alto is too high out of your range
The half-circle of your contoured shape
Rebounds now
We are two creatures who tremble;
We will never work it out
Category:RubyRose17
Category:Poetry