One of my favorite poems from my favorite poet and love.
I place my fingers in-between the cracks of your walls,
Paying attention to the crumbling stone,
The silence that greets my touch. So much past,
So many idle conversations had right here;
Exhalations and tribulations spoken
Like rising smoke, curling around the yellow
Light of your singular lamp. Beneath your
Watchful eye; you, listening patiently,
Absorbing the meter of a language long forgotten.
No longer audible; forgotten by me, not you.
Your hard clay heavy with memory and the weathering
Of time, age; youth: my fingers pressed against your heart.
Reflected innocence in your hardened mirror.
Dirt beneath my finger-nails that will wash away
In the waters that satisfy your quiet urges,
And leave no discernible trace of my presence,
My momentary contact, with your damp flesh;
Fingers dug deep into the sands of your foundations,
Arm held fast by your timeless grip.
I yearn for you to tell me that…
View original post 96 more words