promise me
that this is all real,
’d the dry touch of your lips,
u w the goosebumps
o a on your skin,
y k
m, e the words we whisper,
a m the words we don’t.
e e
r u promise me that this is all real, and if you can’t;
d p promise me, love,
a a
f th l n e you ed t
that i i l d ik us o in this dream where
s a h l i’m in love with
is o t
l s you.
d u
m j
y d
h n
a
,to the sound of di i
s n
t r
eg a
t i
n g lightbulbs, shattering
gray skies with fleeting strands
of yellow string, fingers
stretching
from the thunderclouds
of May,
she coaxed my heart out
from its duffle bag prison
awash in her favorite shades of red.
fingers dripping, slavering lips
painted with smiles. love lost eyes, dancing,
never knowing how she conned my heart
with a lifetime and a half’s worth
of conversations
she took my heart,
leaving me wishing
i could have stolen hers too.
not yet, the ceiling whispers. and
i un
pack my hea
vy heart once again.
not yet,
my dreams agree,
feeding me images
of her slender back
outlined against puffs of light
from s h u t t e r e d glass.
hallucinations of her breathing,
the slithering of blankets
against her skin.
not yet, dear friend, this isn’t the day
you move on.
there still are
moments
when the footsteps
cease;
heartbeats
fal
t
er, trickling down
to the faintest
of whimpers,
to listen
for the
asthmatic gasps of your shadow,
the hurried rush
of red beneath
stained skin,
the moaning of summer
through sun-soaked hair.
there still are moments,
(though, i am here
and
you are
there :)
when your voice
breaks over
crashing waves and
smiles once lost return
unbidden.
