Fantasy

 

 

You hold me

like a book:

 

turning pages

searching image

 

hoping for a glance

I can’t reveal.

 

The clock ticks on

it’s midnight now

 

we talk on superhighway

peeling skin for bone,

 

my pages thin

& fragile

 

crushed to dust

by other loves.

 

You’re searching

for a meaning

 

the hollow of your

heart bleeds desire

 

& I fly out of print

confounded

 

by the satire

sold as love.

 

You hold me

like a book

 

I lean to catalogue

the moment.

 

Chapter heading

full stop.

 

End of line

hidden in your

 

beautiful

black eyes.

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