Friday 20 February 2015

Back To Track Number Four

You are my foundation of chaotic thought 
The legitimate cause of my disquiet 
And I haven’t decided yet whether this is a bright day 
Or rains that intend to plant forests in my lungs. 

You’ve moved over my chest 
Leaving train tracks in your wake. 
Where are you going? 
Has my right rib told you about the 
Conundrum of my heart or not? 
Because that station hasn’t been open for service ever, 
No-vacancy signs are imbedded in my hands 
And I’m so sorry you were previously injured...trying, to unhinge the gates keeping you out. 

I had heard once that it was in the nature of stars to cross 
And I’d wonder sometimes what other shapes that burden takes 
Her face used to come to mind, 
But somewheresomehowsomeway, your face imposed right over hers 
This wasn’t supposed to be a poem about you 
This wasn’t supposed to be an honest opening  
But I can’t stop whispering 
I love you 

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