A room with an aftertaste

---

How can you sit there 

So silently? 

With your heavy chest  

Of drawers,

Judging window eyes  

And blanket arms 

Hugging in a cold could-be-embrace; 

Envelop my screamed-sore throat 

And chapped lips! 

Torn from their truths   

Kiss myself on the cheeks

Hot and wet catharsis.

Feel my chest sink into me 

Rise against them 

Gasp through the thick air 

Steadied by brick 

Crimson claws and walls 

Let me punch through your silence.

Collapse it onto me,

And allow me in to heal 

Or at least to rest.