Postscript
Sporadically traumatic
this web we leave
sticky sheets
a nervous security blankets us
keeps us warm & fuzzy
sirens dividing our attention
limitlessly timid
these teeth we sink
so tepid
a truthful trepidation sanctions us
leaves us warned & lovey
mirrors interfering with our perception
hollow
hollowed out
these eyes
proclaiming to see
so swell
I would be happy
happy to meet you halfway
in the median
on the beaten path
to hell
banging my head
to the rhythm of your
beating heart
because
because I want to be inside
breathing
your intimate most thoughts
scarab-ing around your dreams
wired
not to your desires
no, to your inhibitions
a prisoner to your
metabolic rage
your voice
your voice it sings
a rueful folk rendition
sawing through my harp’s strings
remember
this letter
sincerely signed
your needle-tip pen pal
p.s. there is no fucking postscript
Steve Shultz currently throws mail for the United States Postal Service. He is a former journalist with The Denver Post and Rocky Mountain News. He is native to Colorado, born and raised, calling the Mile High suburb of Aurora home for most of his life. He is the author of FM Ghost, his first collection of poetry. His work has been featured in various zines and publications both online and in print. Read more of his poetry at here.
Featured image by Seigar.
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