Between your mouth and my ear your words are translated. I love you, I love you, I do, you say. I don’t care about the others.
love
The tattoo on my chest
The tattoo on my chest doesn’t look like you. I should have used a photo instead of a memory. And not done it in the mirror.
Shell (2)
I took the unexploded ordnance home with me from the pebbly beach. She was beautiful. She was my shell, my belle.
Bone
He was 95kg of lean meat on the bone but, when her love’s silver dart lodged by his scarred heart, soft eyes began again to smile.
I wish you had left me in winter
I wish you had left me in winter
The sky could have rained tears of ice
The wind could have howled desperation
But here I am alone
looking up at blue skies
I feel the sun on my skin
and the heat in my bones
I wish you had left me in winter
Times change
The closest I get to saving your love letters in a perfumed box is favouriting your tweets and believing you see me when you write them.
His reply, when I asked him who would take precedence, me or his family, was brutally clear
I do not share blood with you.
We share only words and metal.
Blood is the victor.
Why is a crush called a crush?
Because that is what it feels like.
Inside my chest your fingers hold me tight.
Your smile touches my private heart
which flips and fades and shivers on itself.
And then you are out of the room.
Horizon
If we believe the candle can resist the storm, it may. It may.
I will hold my hands around the flame for you.
The moon kisses the sea
The old man told me: Night after night the moon kisses the sea to hide her pale loneliness. Then, from behind the thinning clouds, the stars appear. Several fall and disappear, but if you watch closely, one, always one, flies across the face of the moon. She turns her head and a night breeze rises, follows the star and he rides the night wind with the moon. For a night at least he is hers and she his. And that is what you must live for.
simonsalento 