Wednesday, 15 April 2015

NaPoWriMo 14




You again. we thought we heard

the last of you but look there,
scheming imp, mischievously
stirring wistful memories.

Your fingers on our unsound
bones are unbearable bliss.
Your subtle soul-touch
by turns good and intrusive.

The countenance between
the pair of you is witness
to my audible authority,
be it cut either way.

Exposing with my weave
your innate vulnerability.
Unseen, profoundly felt.
Not even here to be heard. 

Yes, even in silence
your unheralded kiss
bids this body shake,
shiver and sink into sepia.


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