Retrospective

Light burns deadpan sky, yesterday’s sun evaporates. Bells sing always for someone; you lie there almost deadface sculpted from pain. Returning : but I have no flowers. I dream of sea worlds, saliva, messages. Today holds no hostages. Every moment perfect to itself,  we exist in the shadows of memoryalong a corridor of recognition. I am full of you, empty of you. When you leave I return to myself a stranger .