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Motion Pictures by Jon Rodgers


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sundays
they take me to your lips.
the way I left them
trembling.
as I stumbled
and my heart felt like
breaking was too meaningless.
so it melted.

the way
I'll never forget
my hands on your face
when the tears separated my skin
from yours.
and I lied- unknowingly
when I said
everything.
oh, it'll be alright.

and the clouds in your eyes
someone forgot
to paint the silver on
the edges.
as I swallowed hatred
for anything airborne.
and begged the second hand
to freeze
if just briefly
so I could taste you
again.

the same way
every face takes your shape
and the past beats
me into submission.
humility never was my strong suit.
so I saved my breakdown
for paper
and let my tears
dilute the ink.

so this.
is my soliloquy
a mental relapse.
my systematic. heart.failure
because breakdowns
are just too.
meaningless.

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