May I Request?

Periwinkle rain is the film developing above marred tents
and mismatched star lines, sheets covering
over;

But what is underneath me? This ground that pities my skin
like a mother who has traced her child upon railroad tracks,
finding out her son became orphaned at the truth of feeling

useless.

You glance at me through sixty-five degree hazes, days that
were not grown of summer...and how I used to think I wanted
Fall, or at the very least that I would carry a lighter weight
somewhere between August and September.

But I am these long grey figures ahead, looming so often...

I'm not figured out and I am not consuming happiness
as a lady who is ordering chocolate Martinis for the first time
and just can't take her lips away. It's like I am the rim being
tested on, how many times have I been called tasteless?
I'm full of bitterness, these eyebrows, these ears tucked away,
these legs are not fighting the fight-

they're losing their diffusion.

May I request some substance I can sink my teeth into,
but not my eyes? For I am tired of being fatigued and crawling
over bathtubs to make myself feel better in an instant.

Periwinkle rain is the film developing above marred tents
and mismatched star lines, and I'd like to say you were Summer
to me, a real honest find who wasn't daubing at my neck with
perfumes, but I just can't keep asking for what the human soul
is not capable of retrieving.

And someday, I'll succeed in my request for the love you
call tangible.....

*Written August 12, 2012 at 9:20 pm
* Had idea in my head since two days ago when it was constantly raining all day...and now it feels like the end of summer and I just had the title in mind. Thanks for reading....