It was distance, the air, the river, the
silence between us, that peeled our
hunger to monochrome echoes, too
tiny to pass beyond our warm skin
enclosed in our arms, alone, room
dark with longing, sleep absent
like laughter, yours. The texts
did nothing like water seaming
parched dunes, drinking air & dust.
I wanted you just for light, lived
too long in the dark. I wanted you
for music, so I can learn to listen again-
your hand on the windowpane of the
videos through which your lips called
me, come, kiss me, need me like air
on Mars, oxidize, burn metals, love me.
We longed alone, our heart too heavy
to carry us across the vast ocean,
the empty rain pillaged bed sheet,
the wandering sun streaked asphalt,
to where we could touch point to
point-nose, lips, knees, toes.
We withered in our vain vases,
unquenched, dust flaking off as we
became one with cobwebs, dying
things & knowing.
Sometimes, we cross paths in the wild
range of space, our eyes turned to other
horizons; we mouth gentle words,
careful fingering of pain & longing,
almost breathing each other, wondering
our eyes back & forth, until our shadows
interlock & shift & then we are alone
again, across the unchanging scape,
waiting, always waiting for love to come,
sit beside us, hold hands & mutter about
mundane things like who snores.
📷: pixabay
I am listening to music with beats sad and sweet.
©Osahon,2020.