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Foliage, 2021

How would it feel to be caressed in your mind

as much as you’re held in my memory? 

stumped.

 On what was incomplete.

Fracturing the wings of what was never.

False? 

I miss you.

Still. I Paint over wounds,

 knowing what to ignore,  

As you were never to be opened but desired. 

Glide your hair on my open chest connecting every coil to every vein.

Coiled,

I ache,

but flesh feels every bit of desire fulfilled. 

You were there.

I was blind.

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