(Written November 24, 2011, 3:32 am.)
Two drinks too short, two breaths too long.
Broken links in a chain of thought.
Found in the words of a long lost song.
Dropped by the reality once precariously caught.
The distance between fleeting smiles.
The pause of the punctuating frown.
All the inches that feel like miles.
All the ups converging to the ultimate down.
The eyelid heavy with culpable times.
One last ill-advised sip.
Tensing in memories of unforgivable crimes.
Relaxing in Melancholia's forgiving grip.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Silhouette
(Written November 22, 2011, at 1:50 am.)
Your silhouette against the rising sun. The day has new meaning.
The night that has ended is forgotten in the past. The thought of your perfect body in a forgiven morning is a gift.
You may not see me, but I am the eyes that search for traces of you in the blowing wind.
You may not hear me, but I am the ears that hear all your languages.
You may not touch me, but I am the skin that is alive with the imagination of yours.
You may not know I exist, but I do. And I am revived to this world with your silhouette against the rising sun.
Your silhouette against the rising sun. The day has new meaning.
The night that has ended is forgotten in the past. The thought of your perfect body in a forgiven morning is a gift.
You may not see me, but I am the eyes that search for traces of you in the blowing wind.
You may not hear me, but I am the ears that hear all your languages.
You may not touch me, but I am the skin that is alive with the imagination of yours.
You may not know I exist, but I do. And I am revived to this world with your silhouette against the rising sun.
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