orgami's Diaryland Diary

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rearview chauffer

her life is etched into me like age
like the dormant exlixir of
odours on the sheets and walls
of the room

the candleflames only celebrate
when I sit meditating
and her eyes flicker on the
separate panes behind the drawn
drama of curtian

its a curse
to have longed forever
growing old in this body
my fingers no longer supple
my eyes dragged and marked
with anchor lines
the damned tides of
humaness

the moon swelling in her
realm
over the house
over this room

i can almost taste
your lips
wet with ginger
wet with lust

Being so long since
I even touched the
fabric on your shoulders
felt the softness of
your once young skin

now is all just a fancy

9:18 a.m. - 2008-10-18

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