The last signal jumbled, became unclear,

as if the words you spoke, had no point,

could not disclose what you meant, as drip,

drip, dripping through gauze without

sound, pooling in flamboyant irritation,

at my feet with no appetite for truth, no

desire to touch the sun, reach for bliss,

in that way in which love can never tire;

in that way of returning to me….


About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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