Saw-Grass Pages

I want

A sense of cold

On my skin,

Spread out under hands held,

Something in your grip that’s too thin

I want to swallow your sad eyes,

Black, bruised and collapsed for a while,

I want you to mend my insides,

Keep blue eyes on my heart for a while

You and I were saw-grass pages,

Rubbed raw,

Side by side,

Played out

Between lips,

All that I have


Spread out

In a book of ages

I feel the things now, I should’ve known,

I nearly didn’t feel at all,


In your arms

With a little breath,

I can shovel us out,

The air

Hangs and

We can talk till

We Finish

What I now know



All too well,

Isn’t yet finished.



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