Sunday, 18 September 2016

Lines on glass

The shape of you
Through time waiting
Just lines on glass
Hand turning, body aching

Like the first
But with fragments
Patterning on me
Still here but absent

As opening bud
Switched on slowly
Unchanged in time
Light in veins only

Darkness cannot see
Opened and adrift
In pure stillness 
You'd fill the rift 


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