Monday, April 24, 2017

paper kites

you traced routes
on the small of my back
coarse fingers
your atlas hands
painting their blues
making oceans of me
and leaving ships in my chest

the crazy that was my heart
and the things
left unsaid
in the long couple of seconds
I shut my eyes
against the storm
hitting my sky

cages we form
that I would happily
never breach

some have names
but most do not