Sapphire and white
carpet my eyes
with flocks of interruption's
soaring shadows across my abyss
inside I am dark,
with running carmine springs --
my thoughts are barb wired around your absence
you are lost to me
in "Dear John" letters.
your hand writing
vines itself around me
constricting
-as if to hold you inside my memories;
to imitate your warmth and embrace
and in their wake-
I become ice.
No comments:
Post a Comment