NOT ONLY STIRRED, BUT SHAKEN

Broke a pen

Trying to remember the rhythm of

Your name

As it left my mouth

Seething

That day on the train,

 

Spilled ink over the sketched memory

Of your face

As your phantom mouth curved around my digit

The way it had the night

Of my departure

As we sank

In our bed,

 

Ripped the notebook to shreds

When the blank pages began to write

Of the tender way

You had held me

In your arms

Then set its remains alight

When its soul’s ferocious might

Spurted the colour

Of your eyes

Acrsss my withdrawn tongue

And felt it marvel at the sight of me taking in

The horrid taste

Of your absence’s

Sobering tang.

 

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