Need You Right in Front of Me

I’m not the soul-speaking kind—
Doll of soft words in pillow-cased plight,
I don’t whisper enigmas in
A Sunday-morning kind of love,
My cravings differ on paper and in bed—
Scratch on skin until it’s red,
I hurl words across continents
And seas as I hold folds of flesh
Between trembling fingers
The thought lingers, exasperated:
I touch but do not touch
I feel but do not feel,
I watch, but only in secret
Blinds shut from curious eyes—
She’s there, but she isn’t
Her breath is caught in the context,
Our words fuse into a manic song,
A screen that seemed
so spacious
Is now a tumultuous mess—
Slightly of resemblance
To the slick post-apocalyptic appearance
Of the sheets last summer.


7 kommenttia artikkeliin ”Need You Right in Front of Me

  1. a manic song
    i hurl words across the oceans…
    the slick post apocalyptic sheets of last summer…dang now there is a line…nicely woven, we all like it a little different now dont we…smiles.


  2. I touch but do not touch
    I feel but do not feel…She’s there, but she isn’t..for me, it's the contradictions that make this piece so tight


  3. What do I write that does this justice? Nothing! I shall just sit here gobsmacked as I read it for the fifth time. I usually quit after four 😉



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