"dreamtide" poems
The warmth envelopes
Pastel and porcelain;
“Mist my soul with your breath”;
I beg, I beg.
I whisper to myself,
cradling brittle hands,
and surrender to the mystery
of your tidal sway.
Somewhere you lie,
Seeding clouds,
Nourishing roots,
Stirring violet galaxies.
Come to bleed me,
Find me entirely undone.
I have not breathed
Since we last touched.
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 5:16 PM UTC