C is for ....

COUNTING

if i had any sense at all i would know that

almost doesn’t count,

and counting your blessings only means,

you count the curses too,

But I count…

the days in between the weeks,

outside of the months,

until I get to cleave myself

the secret,

of the covert affairs,

listed inside the classified articles of my lover.

the articles I tried to stay away from,

the periodicals I tried to tear my ears away from,

But couldn’t.

So I counted…

 13, 23, 31, 33

Telling stories my ears won’t be forced to hear,

37,43,53

Counting memories as dreams bump into my past

and default themselves…

counting the moments for the meantime,

 but between the time where

deaf ears, silence tongues, and muted vision,

can touch what cannot be touched,

slowly

undressing the articles of my lover,

counting them,

one…..

by…..

one…..