I wish I could find the book titled you, The haphazard bounded and embroidered Cover with pages spilling golden rue And blurred lines under every lovely word… But I don’t know where to look anymore Or if my heart wants to ache like it did. I couldn’t burn the secrets or foreswore And forget the love seared on my eyelids… But my thrum is in the eyes of a man, Laced in every vein, waiting on his lips Like a drug deal not according to plan And your relapse stinging like poison whips. I’ve held and been held by this book in dreams And secret studies full of rouge sunbeams. Perhaps this diversion is what I needed; Maybe someday I'll learn to stop the bleeding?
Had a strange dream and figured I'd write a poem about how I was feeling