Fable

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...