Each tear is a searing needle
Digging deep into the soul
Every memory a traitorous
Tether, binding free will.
Lightest brush of the fingers,
Tingles remembered. Dancing.
Dancing across the skin.
Simple embrace,
seeking comfort.
Fitting together
Just like before.
A stolen kiss
Quiet whispers.
I can't do this anymore.
1 comment:
Sounds like we're in the same miserable place, aye?
The best thing about your open-form poetry is that you keep a steady rhythm no matter what. I dig how the feet in the lines shorten with each successive stanza, like a needle coming to a point before the last sharp stab.
Well done.
Post a Comment