Train Of Reverie..

A lot of Questions and some answers

from the silent lady on the 5 train pretending to read the newspaper 

when she was really looking 

at that guy across from her...


Are you the sickle that cut the cane?

Am I the cane?

Did I fall apart in your shears?

Are your shears like my teeth?

Do I love you like cavities?

Were we just empty that way..?

Are you sick of my questions?

Would you like to hear some statements?

Would you hold them like Commandments?

Am I heavy like Commandments?

Am I Godly this way?

Does God make the sickle?

Am I the cane God cut?

Is love like being cut?

Where do you bleed?

Do you not bleed blood if you are holy?

Are we holes waiting to get more vacant?

Is vacant like an exhale?

What’s an inhale like?

Does it stand alone..

With nothing to compare it to?

Do you know you are incomparable?

Do I command your attention?

Is your attention only eyes?

Am I only worthy of eyes?

Am I worthy of ears?

Am I trying to be worthy of ears..

For more than just the invitation of a bite?

I am the fish that chews on foreign skyward objects..

Are you trying to pull me out of breath on purpose?

Do we have purpose?

Can you hold that.. in your hand?

Do you know how many lines are in your hand?

Can you draw a map of your body for me?

Start with veins..

End with tears.

Do you know I've been trying to reach your heart lines?

Is your heart made of lines..?

Because that would be convenient.

I could tight rope across your organs

To see which parts of you really knew how to live..

Are we alive together?

Am I the "her" you want to get?

Am I the hands?

Am I convenient this way..?

Are you pulse this way?

What is a straight line..

And what does that have to do with our connection?

Does our connection have a sound?

Is it like a song I’m too afraid to sing..?

I wouldn't want to be embarrassed.

I’m trying to be worthy of your ears..

Am I lost in you like the R train?

Can you find me like your favorite page..

In the last book your mother gave you?

Or can I be the bookmark

And show you the best hiding places?

But I won't show you how to boast about them.

But..You gotta remember..

I’m just the bones of something....

A body made of fire escapes

With the courage of washed off graffiti..

Before it ever sees sunlight.

If I touch you ..

Will you try to wash my scent from your hands?

Will I do the same?

Will I cry when I attempt this?

Am I making too much of one missed phone call

that hasn't happened yet?

Will my hands only serve as temporary graffiti on your skin?

Would your skin miss me..

How would its voice sound..?

How would it say,

“come back,


Will you ever love me..

And will I love what type of food to compare love to?

Because I always thought love was like eating an entire Sweet Pumpkin Pie..

For free.

Will I be free with you?

Are we free?

Is this only for the moment?

This moment..

Exhales like the end of a song..

A ballad has been sitting in my eyes for you.

But it gets choppy real easy

I guess I blink too much..

In a car

I saw

999 windmills

pull on the arms of the air..

until they were both dancing.

You are a condensed windmill..

the whirlwind of a bicycle tire before it gets caught in the mud..

I've never wanted to be mud so bad... 

MadamElle MadamElle
26-30, F
Dec 3, 2012