(no subject)
Before the cheap sheer curtains of a foreign window frame I thought of you
I closed my eyes to the grey city and tried to come up with your face
but your features always blur
my synapses cling to the rough contours of your cheekbones
the hard bridge of your nose, your dimples
but in between your ruddy skin is blank and ill fitting
how is it that i can know just how your fingers feel as they trace my back
just how your collar smells, the ring of your nervous laugh
but still I cannot tell you the shade of your eyes
vauge marine blue
like the taste of water
the deluge haunts my dreams but never my waking hours