43/365
November 14, 2011
light is glowing on the edge of his cheek–
it is enough to hold him now,
arched body to body in slumber,
to break in silence from
memory deep tensions–
all that we have left is beauty–
even that is barely kissing
the edges of our faces,
pushed to the last stronghold
by shadows held too long.
it is enough to count breath.
Exhaling–moments are not stolen,
they are everything, and everything passing.
I will wake up, not too suddenly, alone.
Inhaling–hurting to own, but knowing
to live I must let go.
Advertisement
Like this:
2 bloggers like this post.
