It’s a sensual mood
Hanging from my lips
Roaming
into busy disconnected lies
And I give a pause
to the distance
Smiling
to the wooden desk
Downstairs
You are in the bed
of an empty life
Rolling sheets of hope
around my neck
And still the thought
of my death without
your skin on my skin
Stir
the day
pushing a desire
of madness
in the morning light
This is a very long winter
Honey
A long disappointing chill
upon my shoulders
Please hold me tight
in this life
I’ve got a warm mouth
to swing
there where no sounds cling
but smash the dark
of a lonely tongue
To eat.

Nightingale

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