you tell me, in three soft whispers;
it is over.
i am still breathing in this hollow
drawing room
i am alive.
random letters are punched 
into the crumbling sheet-rock of this
white white wall, and i wonder
what it was that flew by just now,
a few seconds ago
did i miss something? were you there?
my pieces are on this tile floor now;
don’t step on my yesterday.
i build myself all over, now, start
underneath this blanket and construct
a house of cards
maybe you’ll be my queen and
i’ll be a spade
the wind might take us away together
any moment now. 
this glow, it fans my eyes 
and blinds me, because 
you can’t say forget if you’ve really forgotten. 
now, you are a rainbow, and i am 
it’s all blurring before me. 
into this punctured skin i stuff
a block of carved wood
the lack of you. 

1 comment:

Post a Comment

in the wake of light, your words bring me more(please, do leave your fingerprints behind, so I may relish the image of our hands after you go.)