I.
It’s been one of those nights
when sleep escapes
and in its wake
these words that race,
stampeding through your mind;
longing to be verse,
yearning for release
they cry out ink me,
ink me onto parchment.
Metabolise the pain, sweet heart.
After all, it’s like any other bitter thing –
the bile, the aftertaste,
it will linger, but it will fade.
Swallow, stay silent while
outside the city rasps and rumbles,
short of air, deprived of you.
Always I’m between your silhouette
and your shadow, your shape
cast and crowned in light
but no illumination can unblind
me to your heart’s relief.
Of those rising, now falling lines
I remain utterly in the dark.
II.
The fog settles at dawn,
all blues washed out to grey.
Wilderness, veiled
but squint and you could maybe
see a glimpse of heaven
here and there, the stars
that steered you through the night.
Every heartbeat in sync,
a collective shout,
a sigh we shared,
the hope that bubbles on
back and forth from me to you.
III.
Awaken and the earth is flat again.
You’re missing the fourth and the fifth
dimensions that abandoned you
to black and white,
your daily grind.
You circle back for second chances,
seeking peace in the past,
in presence and in planning.
Closure, that’s what mortals crave.
