Cycles

Flying high,
then falling, falling, falling,
smashing into firm reality,
your flesh falls open to me, I pick you up.
Damaged but not destroyed,
prying within your bruised skin,
scavenging for well-kept remains,
taking the ones I find.

Pushing my thumb through your navel,
your tears running down my hand,
soaking my sleeve,
I open you to reveal sweetness within.
Inside is more complex than I assumed,
overwhelming liquid fills each perfectly rounded crescent,
small clear satchels encompassing tears,
the stickiness of each drop touching my hand.

Divided perfectly into two halves,
appearing exactly the same,
examining them further,
finding each quite different.
Clinging to the most succulent,
pushing others out of my mind,
sinking my teeth into my chosen half,
I devour you.

Unable to tolerate my strength,
bursting you from inside out,
your inner darkness oozing out,
staining the white sidewalk.
Bending, picking up the mess,
tossing it out of my life,
and into that of another,
your cycle continues.



back to poems