And light, man or water felt
unkind. His slight internment
left us subtly rearranged (For eyes)
and lost. I, you, left fingerprints,
breath on glass and ink. Presuming
all my innocence, your left hand
draws my right and lifts an eye.
Possessor, loving me is no choice; perhaps
here we die and say, together, and in time:
I was once, or I once was.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment