I wasn't beat <br />for lighting candles <br />but my shirt laid <br />over the lamp <br />as things grew <br />dark enough <br />to mean <br /> something, <br /> <br /> limbs tangled <br /> lips pressed <br />tongues passed <br />and I knew in my stone-heart- <br />clump-of-mangled-mass <br />amidst the sloppy kisses <br />and passionate gasps that <br />spit about our mouths, <br /> <br />that I could wake up <br />to her eyeboogers <br />and morning breath <br />forever <br /> if she'd let me, <br /> <br />laying into her <br />deep enough <br />to cause health issues <br />fed by the sounds she made <br />lived an energy <br />that could power <br />a thousand miles <br />of street lights <br />and jump-start <br />any junker <br /> on the roadside, <br /> <br />my shirt <br />draped- <br /> clung <br />to the lightbulb; <br />smoking <br /> <br />beads of sweat <br />grew like harvest <br />from a field of pores, <br /> <br />and my thrust ate <br />from a seemingly- <br />endless adrenaline <br />that made the electricity <br />slow through the walls, <br />the fire in the wires <br />came to a creep-like- <br />cord-blood, <br /> <br />and she came <br />and she came <br />and I didn't <br /> <br />as my shirt <br />lit into low-green- <br />flames <br />that danced <br />slow-like- <br />truth <br /> and we <br />grew still, <br /> <br />as if waiting <br />for the smoke alarm<br /><br />Eric Hamilton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/old-romantic-new/
