I Am Santo

Fiction, poetry, music and mindscape pictures by creative artist Jason Santo

The need to say this staggers
Like windswept tenacity
In the untenable.
“I love you.”
What joy
What kindness
What thrill to utter simplicity
In this incomplete now.
“I love you.”
To host these syllables!
The back of the throat
The tongue against teeth
And then, the throat again
But the teeth meeting bottom lip
And a simultaneous push
From the back once more
Through rounded lips
Ready for a kiss.
Such ease and welcome.
“I love you.”
And the words echo
Into nightwalks alone
Where the stars shine
As answer.
Where beds await
Cold.

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(at I Love You)

Adjacent to useless in the dead of frozen light, a cold slab of granite unworthy of a headstone or the pause for which it was crafted. Mistaken placement, or perhaps context changed, avenues widening as interests tangled, branches extending into the choked gray. Steps less common, grins lesser so, the reaper’s season robs dreams of leisure, of warmth, and the scattered crackle of misspent vitality skitters by, carried on a blind God’s exhale; a trick of woven fates conspired to draw each day into a year of solitude. #winter #bench #tree #cold #poem #poetry #literary_imagery1 #literary_original #writer #writing (at Purposeless)