on the borderline, simple
thoughts guide breathing
patterns out from
the front porch: i
dream we
abscond, out through
blurred fencelines in
low light we trickle
through pockets of
wheat, the tumult of
everything under a
moon first distant,
gleaming and moving
creeks in your skin, pale
gold like i so often imagine
your eyes would turn
under the soft parting of
my lips. a ghost yet
unmade. haunted i, already.
in dreams, i do not have
you but
still, you take me by
the hand, utter warm silence,
make small motions, closer
by the day. i take out
my hairs one by one, clog
the sink a
tiny bit more. build an
ocean. sail to make
us, halfway. a wider
range, the only way out
a kiss on the wind. i
sent myriads, all lost;
still, maybe someday you'll
find one.
out under three thousand
shining points unstitching,
we mutually profess undying
nothing and graze skin. my
fingertips will never know
you.
May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 7:14 AM UTC
on the borderline, simple
thoughts guide breathing
patterns out from
the front porch: i
dream we
abscond, out through
blurred fencelines in
low light we trickle
through pockets of
wheat, the tumult of
everything under a
moon first distant,
gleaming and moving
creeks in your skin, pale
gold like i so often imagine
your eyes would turn
under the soft parting of
my lips. a ghost yet
unmade. haunted i, already.
in dreams, i do not have
you but
still, you take me by
the hand, utter warm silence,
make small motions, closer
by the day. i take out
my hairs one by one, clog
the sink a
tiny bit more. build an
ocean. sail to make
us, halfway. a wider
range, the only way out
a kiss on the wind. i
sent myriads, all lost;
still, maybe someday you'll
find one.
out under three thousand
shining points unstitching,
we mutually profess undying
nothing and graze skin. my
fingertips will never know
you.
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