Y43

For a moment there I had you Grasped within a scuffled palm Breathing gently beneath my tulip skirts Then the winds rose again And you left as quickly as you came: A rustle of foliage, dancing with a tumultuous gravity "Ill be back for you come spring."

They seem to have appeared overnight A smattering of ink  Chasing across your neck Proud and defiant And chafed raw Like small  Dying shrines You say they mean Much, gifts and tokens From secret admirers; The door to the promised land ... Aphrodite's smile Upon your collarbone You say you don't feel them Anymore, though sometimes At night You still cup them in your palms To watch them sing  The rainfall and glow When the moon  Cries dark

it escapes from your lips like a muted song - one lone melody to catch your breath and trill along your cheekbones - an inhale of temptation (my weary fossil love, my sin) an exhale of thin-fingered hope but no note to carry on

There's me, draped over your covers Feathery down and sleep pillowing my feet One hand runs through my hair while The other runs haphazard circles Stitching kisses into your duvet There's you, your back, rather Mirth tumbling from your shoulder blades Like miniature acrobats who come Swinging in waves, overwhelming me They break my patterns They burst my seams

τραύμα I have toyed with a canvassed scream felt it blossom bruised to the surface and splinter then slough from the opaque skin weeping from the injustice of having been buried so deep for so long . I thought it easy to peel them away; to erase the scars where panic had chafed them raw all the while burning for the strength to wrestle against this turbulent gravity don't brake don't fall . I guess the silence loved just enough to mend the flesh torn apart but not the ruins smoking there, off the path, where in haunted dreams I watch the children flying don't break don't fall . and in these

To the boy who taught me three chords on a guitar, whose patience pressed my fingers to the frets and moulded his hands to mine, whose song rang askew from the pitch but caught me all the same; To the boy who drunk-dialled me one night for my hand in marriage, whose slurs stabbed pin-holes through my walls, whose laughter sounded so forlorn he could have been sobbing; To the boy who held me while I cried, whose arms protected against the pain and shock and broken glass, whose words dissolved the wreckage from my nightmares and gave me hope; To the boy who flew me up and built me a haven on the mountaintops, whose headlights ignited the fie

somehow we've wandered back to this little corner of time headlights on, engine bubbling night settling warily between us the whispers carved into frosted glass remain we laugh to bury the questions and smother the stains still there's nought but words trickling down the dashboard, pooling against the window pane the shadows lap at our faces and hands and we lie comfortably we lie Oh her? She's fine. We're fine. it must look as if we orchestrated the whole thing a lucky coincidence, if luck had been on our side but even if we lock the doors and close our eyes in here, the rules are still the same and so we are just two

I took time to catch the secrets leaking from the quiet places moulded into sweet desires and fed them back to you I sought after the melody that would haunt your every kiss and promise to bring salvation to those who never believed in you I wrung the seconds dry testing waters too deep to pry apart and wading through a history too shallow to stay you and all I can remember is your laughter chasing a sunrise I could never see painting my empty skies a-broken blue still, I probably love you