When You Come Home

These lips that kiss
    from blonde to
                    blood colored stone
will scramble through the night
if left alone
entangled in old kisses
        dried like bone
             salty
                    white with memory
           taint of loves tears tinged
                                alone
           not Saint or Satan.

I am not enough.
I am not enough to turn
       on ribs of stone
             my skin grows loose
and
I’m so cold            
                    that I embrace
                    what empty arms
are prone to trace
             I leave the margins wide
                   making room for you

I drink too much stale rain
                        and spill it too.
I blow dust kisses
                  spin across the floor
In the stagnant dark
                 cry out “I’m more!”

When you come home
         
         Please 
                BURST through the door

Ernie

When You Come Home

TheCandle

Joined March 2011

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