Nynae

Your snoring wakes me... Sometimes. Sometimes I fall back to sleep, but tonight there's a fairy ring hanging around the moon. My thoughts are mine to keep. I stretch, I roll over I view you in better light. The filtered moon illuminates you perfectly, your skin pale, your body slight. Tonight I'll be your Thumbelina, and crawl beneath your shuttered lids dive into a pupil dark to go where tongues forbid. Bright sun has come to steal my cloak. Again, I stand before you bare every freckle known, measured. My body shows it's wear. My locks grow longer still, their inches marking out our years. You and I have always been here,

I write like I speak   With my soul in my words   And my heart torn apart   Which is bleeding blue ink   Like words on white paper And the thoughts in my head   Are in the air and in black writing.   They are mine, of myself. They are me without expletive. Because they need no expletive   They are of themselves        Self-defining Yet vague, like the love that almost was,   Because you cannot hold them.   Like a gentle breeze,   They are felt but never touched.   Unseen all but a part,   their effect. On paper, in air and now...   They are in your mind as well.