Poses

The weird sweeps warm smile cross these cherry lips

So don't forget my number lest the nine secrets of these hips

is lost to the tide of fallen figures

and sealed in the diary of our Sphinx

And finally she wrote to me

Those words I'm supposed to hear

It was two not three but pity be

that twasn't five or six

all those towns of places we made

Faces staring at other stars

There were miles of creases we laid

pieces of us left in other cars

but still I know in your traffic jam state of mind

I'm always the reason you adjust the view behind

and you wish on coins already thrown 

that's how hidden you keep these bones

The last thing you'd ever say is what's on your mind

simply poses instead

still, reflective, and completely falsified

devoid of the love I placed in our lives

but your poses make better proses than poems

you know

and my read poems make better roses

one last taste of me

sweeps past those full and cherry lips