do not dare reach out
and stroke the cheek of that sad face
it is not your head to hold in your lap
anymore.
another's. it is another's
as if you have given it away, it is not yours to repair now
the luminous eyes
the roundness of the heart--
they are not yours. perhaps
they never were, perhaps that time
was a fierce wish aching within your memory
a desire to touch the face, to kiss the eyes that do not see you
do not go into that home
it is not the one that you lived in
anymore.
Aug 13, 2013
Aug 13, 2013 at 8:28 PM UTC
do not dare reach out
and stroke the cheek of that sad face
it is not your head to hold in your lap
anymore.
another's. it is another's
as if you have given it away, it is not yours to repair now
the luminous eyes
the roundness of the heart--
they are not yours. perhaps
they never were, perhaps that time
was a fierce wish aching within your memory
a desire to touch the face, to kiss the eyes that do not see you
do not go into that home
it is not the one that you lived in
anymore.
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