The mourning curtain opens the day with a gray sigh and the sheets curl around my form as a second skin, impossible to peel off. I stare out my window, desolate except for a single thought, You. The dusty seconds pass like years of cobweb painted cars and the road spans out, a thin vein of a time line pulsing into the distance. riding a dying engine into the future. Possibility sits on our dead plans and I scratch at them like scabs with calls and knocks not caring of scars or perceived foolishness Has the great moment passed? Where my head on your chest ears the history of man, as your steady breathing ripples the rise and fall of civilizations. When hour glasses crack with glances exchanged. As time bleeds into the space between us. As I muse over where all my timeless sandy tears went. Lost already in the ocean with the all the others? But now I think about the bucket of sun that was poured on you that day you shaved your face And called me and offered me coffee as we sat at a cafe Even though I dont drink coffee And said nothing And walked outside With eyes averted And sat that way For awhile And you pierced my side And broke my bubble And stood up And walked over And put your limbs around me And steadfast as a tree held me And I died when I cried in your arms And wondered if I should have lied and hid my weakness And wondered if what we had was greater than my problems. And watched as you walked away. Only days but it feels like months This morning I see the shadows under your hooded eyes and feel the frightening quiet on your skin, and long against the volcano in my loins. The fur on your soul grows And the purr of your strength intensifys And the gravity of your magnetism And even God stirs in me after sleeping for years sensing the delicate shift. Maybe youll call maybe you wont but Ive stopped checking my phone so much and have started listening to the world inside. Thank you
Posted on: Sun, 14 Dec 2014 10:47:19 +0000
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