Adrift

I remember something about paper
caressing my cheek; life's formula
staining my skin but only love songs
entered the cave of my hunched back,
stroked the spine and left touch behind,
like the way I soften my grasp on the pillow
when dreams escape the grasp of nightmares.

But there are no fingers softer than a melody's,
and up until today I still fail to mimick its upper tone
even though my mind keeps flitting through pictures
we forgot to take, handing myself to superstition.

Now I remember, that sunken eyelids are cells
and hands nothing but cuffs to desktops,
I remember your image before drifting to sleep,
I remember how it feels like to loosen my muscles.

26-05-2014
9:53 PM