filter pages of pain through my limpid fingers,
lilting tunes toss them far away,
words of hurt used shimmer on memory banks,
but now, like the receding tide
worlds merged and colours
pores of want and longing
You don’t exist in my dreams anymore;
You are here, as true as the thoughts in my head
are my own.

interlude

my patience with words so
feeble, so little while my fingers long;
to tap those elusive strings of your.
furtive stirrings of my.
heart
feet; your
fingers
tracing permanent memories on my.
skin so perfect under the
caress of your.
thought.