the faint sound of waves hitting the shore,
your fading laughter,
you calling my name
on one Sunday afternoon.
scattered memories,
captured in the mid vein of my life,
starts to play when I declare an end
leave a sharp stain on my wet bleeding heart
I’m careful not to imagine
the warm smell of your skin,
behind your ears,
on the back of your neck.
but your arms come unannounced
pulling me far too close,
inhaling me
exhaling the others.
do I rely on my heart
who refuses to believe that you’re gone,
or my head
who weaves ways to bring you back to life ?
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*sigh* Chicklet! This is going to be a long night for me now!
am sorry… as MJ said – will try happy stuff!
thank you for reading it though.
Love’s a bitch, what more to say?!
Ps – Like it when you write happy stuff
we’re flawed, why blame love ?
very well written, Chicklet! love the contradictions – ‘careful not to imagine’ yet one must imagine what one must not…
I must now weave ways to get you to write stories with me
glad u could capture it. its this essence which doesn’t dissipate no matter how long it has been.
yes. we should get down to writing something steamy and cause ripples in the Gaysi world
been there…chicklet…TC