as if it were my own life
your voice
the beautiful distraction to solitude
humming sweet in my memory
we shed to bathe in the river cold
your nipples pointed to the dawn
of our past
your pale naked thighs
in the torrent of my imagination
fifteen years it took
for us to get close enough
to breathe in the stench
of absence
we swim
Hey Robert,
ReplyDeleteBeautiful poetry...
This is one i understand a little bit:)
Such profound words! They will go haunting for a long time.
ReplyDeleteSometimes all I know to say is 'WoW!'
ReplyDeletefeels melancholy yet hopeful, i enjoyed it
ReplyDeletelongdayhotshower.blogspot.com
Elliot MacLeod- Michael - glad you liked it. what i love about
ReplyDeleteany art is that after it leaves the nest it no longer belongs
to the originator. thank you.
Dan - that was sure enough fine with me. thank you.
Nazia - thank you.
Daisy - lovely Daisy. thank you.