Wishful Thinking Poem by Janine Alyssa Navarro

wishful, and thinking, yes
for another broad sunny day
to come back sweeping in
the glitters that once
were never found,
the cracks in the ground
filter the tense, dense air

lights go out, hush,
there is a bit of metal
on the tip of my tongue
or was it your blood
ah yes your heart
it does function without
its usual armor and sword

clothe your lush lips
for it gets every piece of me
to shriek, and then hide
you stir and send jolts
of a soapy kind of pain,
each time you spill your pages
when they refuse to be written