Four o'clock into the morning,
Open and naked you sleep
Darkness struck.
I sit there, sleepless and muted,
Fingering the tickets sharp teeth
And your lines,
Soft and elusive,
Curving away,
Like you.
I wish I could coin a word
To be braver than me
To cross this blanket's bar
And reach for the night
In your curls.
Words are all I have,
But they will always be
Dust in the sun
The smoke in your breath,
Never the smile on your lips.
So I sit there,
Sleepless and muted,
Following your lines.
IIX
© Copyright: Егор Лановенко, 2010
Свидетельство о публикации №110040301319
Свидетельство о публикации №110040301319
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