I findI find my daysMore Like This
riddled with cigarette butts
and coffee cups,
bridges and brick dust.
River rocks rescued out of the rain
pages of poetry all lipstick stained
fragments of people,
cigars, Pall Malls, and Marlboros.
Smoke long stale
wafts in loops and spirals
through the morning air
as I untangle memories from my hair
and track hand prints and fingerprints
on my spine and my hips.
Finger tips follow lines of scars
that I lie about and love.
Swanning over old aches
a stronger soul.
I find bruises on my heart and my knees
the color of black, blue, and raspberries,
earned from too much time preying,
Praying for some almighty force
reveling when they did.
There's a smudge of paint on my thigh
from when my skirts
and passions rode too high
as I rode my inspiration 'til 2 am
with a paintbrush in my hand
to make something lovely.
Lips silky and swollen
from too many kisses stolen
from unsuspecting lovers.
I find my life riddled