Sunday, 27 September 2015


I fiddle the six strings
and they resonate in your echoes.
I breathe in the lull of nicotine
and trace your veins in midair.
I touch a nerve with a bleeding pen
it’s frozen at my fingertips.
I count your wrinkles, kiss your calluses
and I melt, I melt into emptiness
I paint my skies in dark afterthoughts
and your hues fill my palette again.
I see, I dive, I crave, I dream
only to have you seep in through my seams.
I find what I’ve lost, I hold the missing piece
only to bury it in you once more.
I stretch across an empty bed
warm in your thoughts, cold in your absence
I toss a coin to let things transpire
but it’s me that falls again, head over heels.
I caress your hair, I try to pen your ink
and instead wrap myself around your being.
I’ve built you a shrine within my crux
Out beyond the reach of everything else.

No comments:

Post a Comment