I eternalised your passionate gestures, your spine in a crooked room.
Immortalised the texture of your voice, eye contact never-ending.
Internalised your body and language, the scent of your hair on the pillow.
I listen to the winds in spring, your fingers trotting down my neck,
Your open mouth, the sweetness within it, across the tongue, the
Heartbeat, I know stories after stories looking at you, up close, growth, blossoms.
The words are evasive, I shed the skin of a martyr, the arrows
Rotting on the floor. I press my hands on my ears, I can’t think in
This cacophony, I don’t know the sound of my own voice, discomfort, look at me.
You render knuckles tender, multi-coloured marbles foxtrotting across
My cheekbones. My forehead grazing on your collarbone, printed prayers.
Nothing else makes the world stand still.
Croque-Melpomene 