Tuesday, September 24, 2013

You try to touch
but it’s never enough.

Love wants
on your hot breath
the icy chill of truth hanging in the air.

Friction of skin on skin
Hope unravels
between fingers made raw.

Should     should
what if

You pull the reigns
as struggle sinks you
deeper into the comfort
of your own darkness.

You’ve been here before.
I’ve been here before.

My heart cracks
in the shape of this well-worn path
above a cavern of cool air
that knows all too well

The oldest love story of all time.

You are not my mistletoe
dangling in mid air
singing sweet songs

what if
(should should)

I release you
to your tarnished mirror
while I wait

in the certainty of myself.


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