Monday 13 December 2010


You smell of smoke tonight, my love,
Ethereal, fleeting, like the wisps you’ve always been.
Your eyes are poison and your voice is hoarse
From my lies and your half-truths.

Through your tears into my nest
I touch your voice and watch it crumble.
Somewhere deep inside are colours
Which tell me that you still hurt.

Memory trains pull out of winter stations
Will you see me off?
Sometimes, though, you will be in need
Of the tears and the pain.

In your ashtray are the lost
Burnt and abandoned.
If they call you tonight through the blue,
Will you hear them?

Words are hidden in the furrows of your skin.
When I find them all, we shall craft
Your fable on parchment,
With treason and pain.

When naked winds shall
Streamline your ruggedness,
Send them to me with messages
And mauve melange.

As sunset tears me apart from
Your rain-drenched eyes,
Know that I am awash
In waves that speak your scent.

Fragile and tremulous, my love,
You are. And you may never know,
That ‘tis how I am too,
Without you...

No comments: