i still taste you on
the tip of my tongue,
sharp and silky and starry
even my neck remembers
your lazy lips and naughty violet imprint
i still see myself
fragile in your moonlit eyes
between soft blinks
and gentle crinkles

unwillingly slipping
into melting amnesias
and hazy evasion forces its way
down my throat
it dances fractals in my lungs
taunting me,
discarnate and disbodied
drifting ethereals turned ghostly fog
staining my crooked memories

Agony at the time of the weak, simple spot of the sensor, being tore oh! Like a swift cut slicing your head off your body, you lay there unaware of the pain.
Till you try to breath and fill that you are disbodied. Blood gushing to the cement as you look at your knees in front of you
freeze
cut the scene that pain obscene.

Impatiently the flakes of snow brushed off the dust on his cheek-
Half of the still face of a man lying prone in a thin plastic seat
His heart in his cavernous hand, his loss in the bustling street

She nary spent a moment's stop to take in the man on the bench,
But the brush on his skin lingered in her pensive walk to work
What was it to know the wind's desolate blow?
Have no one around but the ice and the snow?
What thoughts could he have spent?
Yet
she bled into the distant crowd covering up the concrete

They went about their various worlds entranced with disbodied sorrows
Taking the chance to dream about the far-off worlds of others
But no raw comprehension of the man on the bench or glancing sidestep could stay;
One by one, heart to mind,
All of them walked away.