29 June 2009

*one, untitled.

Every night I empty my heart
but by morning it's full again
Slow droplets of you seep in
through the night's soft caress

At dawn I overflow with thoughts
of us, an aching pleasure that
gives me no respite

Love cannot be contained
the neat packaging of desire splits
asunder, spilling crimson through
my days, long languishing

Days that are now bruised
tender with yearning
spent searching for a fingerprint
a scent, a breath you left behind.

1 spilled milk:

icebreaker said...

uncommented comment. :D