Broken Furniture
I used my teeth
to step into your lower lip,
left my white shoes at the door.
Made a home
in your kiss.
The words that you whispered
to me on those midnights
surround me,
cheap furniture.
I sit on the ragged couch
of your well wishes
and watch the TV
of your smile.
The antennas curve upward,
but I stay on the same channel
where I hear you laugh,
that laugh from your soul.
I always seem to fall
for that laugh.
I enjoy the reruns
of your happiness.