Sunday, November 23, 2008

it's a working title

AFTERNOON sunlight slants through my classroom window as if to lull me to sleep.
I wish you were here, so that your face could be the last thing to catch my eye before it drifts to a close,
and as I lose the light, I am swallowed up into the place I left you last,
and we'll both go down together
to stay there forever
without the call to look upon any other face,
until at last my lungs cease to pull your sweet scent through my silent lips and my hand goes slack in yours.
But day pulls me back into the world, and I stumble toward the far, unfiltered air that stands between me and a home that can't hold me, only to close my mind once more to any world that doesn't have you in it, and attempt to recapture your touch in my mind
-in my dreams.