There's more than anatomy between us,there are spaces both microscopic and vast,inches and inlets that were once wholebut have cracked to drift apart and becomejagged continents unknown to one another.The equivalent of vanished civilizations will remain buried in our hearts,carvings on...
poem
I may not remember everything,every single detail we shared,dates grow vague along withsome words that may have slipped.But I remember you in the best way.The songs you played when telling mehow they broke your heart for the first time,the notes...
Something not anchored in love drifted far beyond our reach, exempt from our careful touch, I'll be able to understand you one day. I'm still here in this dark room, broken by such little things, a stray strand of auburn hair, the most brief hint of perfume.Forever...
You're still like a dream to me,I can almost touch those phantom edges,beautiful shapes that have left me longingon the precipice of what I can't understand.And I think I'm almost there again,before winter when I grew too jealous,too passive to...
Blueprints
"For whom my heart requires."
How far we had gone,in ignorance of each othera persistent tugging of the subconscious…we had met long before our birth,two kindred soulsstretched through the miles.We may have had a division, a rifta mere beaten pathrequired for us to followbefore our...
Your touch once almost told me that creatures must find each other for some comfort,farther than what flesh can fortell,to press beyond where we have grown coldthrough the tender inlet where desire flows.We reach a burning core soon enough,that beautiful, dangerous...
You're still the reason I wait for winter, why I drive through the dark valley alone, our city merely a distant afterglow, a beautiful and dangerous element rippling through the heart. Perhaps too familiar to hold on to anymore, maybe there's too much painto still carry this...
And from the song that screams through you,it's the sound of a heart on fire,a body burning for just a touch,the sudden rush in contact when even fingertips can swell this blaze.Maybe it's part of the season,summer pouring through the lungs,traces...
It was the disconsolate dreamingthat kept me up at night,nestling against the pericardium.Those soft, gentle tendrilsmere wisps of a phantomreaching through fleshand grasping desperatelythrough the deepest states of repose.You won’t ascertainthe profound effect that you have on metaking my heart to...