Yovana Milosevic

 

ELOQUENCE OF A BULLET

 

You tried to kiss me once, so quick to speak of hearts and the human bodies we live in.

I am a force taken by the lacings of passion.  

His embodiment of stained drip,

Of cigarettes too tender for our harsh mouths.

I get so lonely when I’m sitting here in my room forgetting to brush my hair.   

There is a limit to stories we can tell that are rough on the skin.

He wrapped his spine around my teeth: the most permanent of promise rings.

I get so lonely when the sun chokes me with its light.

I understood why people broke promises- when their battle is over, they peel off their person.

I was so lonely when I was young

And she was so little, placed in his back pocket just like the memories.

I could never find home after you left.

I get so lonely empty of fullness.  

My hands are intertwined with your hair, but I never tried to leave.

Is it prison if you like it?

Your body is made of keys but I never learned piano.

I get so lonely when there is no music to be silenced by.  

Every disease has been of your god’s desire,

Each strand of your hair had the impact of a bullet.

I thought I was looking for you the whole time but I am slowly becoming an honest person.

I get so lonely because there is never enough silence to listen to.

Your bones creak, but I hear music.

You wrapped your hands around my neck and taught me what honesty felt like.  

I sat there exposed

And you stood there not

running.  

I have wondered whether it is luckier to be behind a trigger or in front of one.

I thought that I, too, was a bullet but you let me be

soft.  

We taught each other that we were meant for amazing things.

My masterpiece is the way you look at me.