Navigation

Your words

each phoneme

coarse, like sand grains

caught in an oyster.

I swallow them whole.

Gulping,

the whorls of salty slime

swim through my gut.

I'm sick

to death

of noisy silences,

searching glances.

Your eyes,

my lighthouse,

faded moons ago;

and adrift on a stormy sea

I feel my way to shore

through darkness.

I thought I knew the way, but

in the black

I lost you.

Those eyes of yours,

so blue,

even when they gave up shining,

I thought I saw a flicker.

But like a scented candle

on the bath-side,

burned down to the wick,

you didn't have it in you

anymore.

O carry me, tide;

Float me far away from here.

I know the sun will rise

in the morning.