As the day descends upon me I’m left with reflections of things gone by.
A lovers mint on another’s pillow
A kiss in the night to call you awake
Goes unnoticed for your name can’t be spoken to those with ears
All this by the hand of a poetish painter.
Searching for lost souls in the night
Like a town crier calls for those to here his plight
Soft electric light guides his fingers
Through these pages like a book in space for all to read, one page, one day, one thought at a time.
Tenderness has gone, forgotten the touch, only the trace of what once was lingers hard on the tongue like a bitter sweet pill left un-swallowed.
Body jerk and qwerks it’s way through the day, hands covered in paint like a lovers embrace.
An old friend, this paint and prose of mine gives solace in the mornings night. As these aches and quakes consume the senses. Each push causes pause for the next letters unknown until it spills from the mind
Like an oceans last dyeing wave reaches the shore its task complete.
So do my words as they splash this soft screen of man made parchment
No practice not wordy just words of my mind and heart unadorned bare and cold like a child in the night.