Tonight, I miss you:
Like that line
From page 72
In the book of poems
On loan.
I lament
Your absence.
Because
Somebody else
Sheds a tear
At the longing
You provoke.
Apr 5, 2013
Apr 5, 2013 at 1:32 AM UTC
Tonight
I will not make love to you.
Tonight,
I will push you away
And feel the tension tug
At the space between us.
I will keep you
An arm’s length away
And feel your spider senses explode
As you try to fill the distance between us
With your tortured breathing.
I will tease the cracks
On your skinned knees
With an unfeeling shrug
And make your Adam’s apple shudder
As I find a new funny bone
In the depression between your clavicles
With my restraint.
I will cup your rib cage
With unexplained explanations.
Around your hips
Wrap my intolerable excuses.
And with my fanatic resolve
Heap live coals between
Those sacred spaces
Of your being.
Tonight
I will not make love to you.
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 12:25 AM UTC
You are the space between the raindrops;
That corner in the umbrella’s canopy
Which has never known moisture;
The dry patches in the snail’s slimy trail;
The root of the swan’s feather
Where water has never been;
The pebble trail on a muddy path;
The sunshine that sometimes fades
But always comes back.
Someday, when you are resting
At the end of a rainbow,
I will trap you, like a memory,
Between the pages
Of my favourite book.
Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 4:03 AM UTC