I remember now, <br />how my dirty ideas stood on the threshold of your eyes <br />and how you asked me to clean the words <br />before you could let them inside. <br /> <br />so I did, I washed the sentences with my tongue, l <br />icking them off like a mother beast does <br />her new-born beastly child. <br />my meanings, after all, belonged better out in the wild. <br /> <br />you rebuked them for their sour flavor, <br />saying how unfit they were for you to devour. <br /> <br />never, in my life had I <br />regretted something so much: <br />letting you come inside my mind <br />to approve of the wall-paper. <br /> <br />it was only your voice I longed to hear <br />praising my insignificant labor. <br />and I wonder now if you understand <br />how it murder me to watch your eyes roll in disgust <br />as you said: ' this is blaspheme! ' <br />in reference to something <br />I had titled ' love'<br /><br />Amberlee Carter<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/falling-short/
