you swallow
sunlight
& no matter how low
your expression
rests
I will always see you
shining
climbing the highest
pines
in our pitch black
hell forest
trying to find me in
the slip from
deep within your chest
& its fierce desire
for youth
I can hear it in
the way you
laugh
when we're alone
I can hear it in
my shallow breath
& the taste
of your cologne
the way you move
your hands
is next to godliness
& I would sell
my soul
sweet dear
to forever be their
witness
Jun 5, 2012
Jun 5, 2012 at 11:13 PM UTC
you swallow
sunlight
& no matter how low
your expression
rests
I will always see you
shining
climbing the highest
pines
in our pitch black
hell forest
trying to find me in
the slip from
deep within your chest
& its fierce desire
for youth
I can hear it in
the way you
laugh
when we're alone
I can hear it in
my shallow breath
& the taste
of your cologne
the way you move
your hands
is next to godliness
& I would sell
my soul
sweet dear
to forever be their
witness
"In French, you don’t really say “I miss you.” You say “tu me manques,” which is closer to “you are missing from me.”
I love that. “You are missing from me.” You are a part of me, you are essential to my being. You are like a limb, or an ***** or blood. I cannot function without you."
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