The Voices Behind the Curtain
once in a while,
we roll tongue against skin
and skin against teeth
and it is not all, show
primitive sounds escape
revealing, a life’s worth of
hidden auroras and clear
summer skies
and we think we are
together in our loneliness,
reveling in mutual emptiness
mouth muscles contract
pouring out fear after fear
doubt after truth,
deviating from our daily scripts
my voice screamed for compassion
but your ears could not take in
the sound of humanity
© Nathalie M. Viorato
To the Other Woman’s Other Woman
she savors the taste of love
new promises whispering whimsically
aching for more.
more
more
and then some
gorging herself on lies.
she hasn’t noticed yet
the drifter in his eyes
or the smokescreen
that cages his gypsy heart.
she hasn’t noticed yet
that she is me.
© Nathalie M. Viorato
The Dirt Beneath the Snow
Even if the snow falls.
Covering the soft green earth
with its ashen dust,
altering the ground.
The earth fights back.
Always evolving.
Never devastating.
Even if you come back to me
I won’t.
I won’t.
©Nathalie M. Viorato
The Memory of Rain
the rain is warm now.
I can feel it
wet, sharp
like acid trickling down
frail, unprotected skin
sliding into my eyes;
every tear cries for you,
every tear burns.
©Nathalie M. Viorato
The Act of Burning Bridges
You act as though I am easy to forget
But you don’t know how-
You don’t know how to erase me
from your background
How to leave behind a good woman-
and her broken heart.
And you move forward- sharing music,
listening to your bands
talking about nothing
pretending to understand each other-
but at night, when you go to bed with her
Realize
You are all alone.
You are all alone.
© Nathalie M. Viorato
