Sun-bathed
Self-shame
Emulating the

Silk phantom of your flesh

Wind is whispering through
These orange trees,
The distance of touch
Now fermenting in the grove,

Breathing in
Air heavy in wanting,
Singing the shape
Of the blossoms that sit
Static
In their pretty graves

I long to be lost within that labyrinth,
The eternity from ear to ear,
Painting the walls within your mind,
Striking deeper crimson,
Mixing in our black-blue hours,

Embracing
Another voice to haunt,
A feeling to hunt down
And set free,
Another cold crack in my smile

A crackling like the brittle bones
You break and warm yourself
With, as snow piles around you,
Following the soft footsteps
That echo like the memory of a storm

Dragging time away,
You left a blizzard in your wake

But now I feel as though I gained a friend
In this shivering that holds me so close