This is a counter-intuitive poem
writing through a haze of pain medication
to paint a clear picture of you.
But i dont mind

The pounding behind my eyes
makes for a better soundtrack
and my dry throat
numbs any attempts at bitterness.

Clouds seep from my pen nib
my heated head draining illness away
i dont want to go
but you dont want to stay.

Off coloured heart inside
pastel and violet breastbone.
With your fists and head confide,
A need to be alone.

i couldn't paraphrase us.
and if a poem is only worth
the words written within;
i don't have an introduction.

i don't know where to begin.