I can’t bleed no-more

  I can’t bleed no-more.
                            In Austin, Texas
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Johnnie don’t cry no-more for love,
he don’t look for things in the lost and found.
He has his 6th street in Austin, Texas.
He befriended the bartenders and he found people with the same sickness.
Even the crazy goth girls know his name.
Johnnie ain’t looking for love no-more.
He go to the Austin city river, drink the vodka and juice with the college kid at noon and
he write the bleeding poetry.
              “I can’t bleed no-more
We went into love blindfolded,
we believed love was sweet, love was relentless.
We drank-in the kiss, we drank in the taste of skin and the open flesh.
We lie to each other and we clings to things, we didn’t own.
We were rag-bag lovers seeking last dance, last smile and the last laugh.
Maybe it was the whiskey,
maybe it was we never showed real face.
Somehow we found the rage, the hunger.
I remembered your tattoos,
I remember you long legs and warmest kiss I have ever known.
On a rainy night in a Austin tavern,
after too many Long Island ice teas.
You asked me,
do you love my darkness, do you see the coldness in my eyes?
Do you understand, we are stranded souls just needed the feel of human touch,
just vagabonds people, just loaning and stealing kisses.
I told her. The dead, the sleeping heart people need to taste the burning sweetness of the touch, to ensure we know we are alive.
Can’t find love love always,
sometime the comfort is enough.”
“I received a letter in late Winter,
dear Luna wrote.
I am sorry, I didn’t say goodbye and I did listen to you.
I found your California dream,
I am dancing alone for the Pacific and I remember you.
I remember your tender and soft hand making me feel alive.
If you are brave,
I am waiting for you in Santa Cruz.”
I kept the letter in my pocket and I drink more now.
Pretty goth girl in tight black dress and the darkest eyes I ever seen.
She kissed my face and she asked.
Dark Poet, bleed me a poem that can make me cry.
You are the sexiest man in Austin,
you have the coldest heart and you don’t want to own anything or anyone.
I put my face into her black hair and I told her.
I am not a brave man my dear friend.
I can’t bleed no-more.
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                                Dancing Coyote