upon your chest, I laid down my head
and sweet was the scent of garden green,
fresh herbs: rosemary, basil and thyme.
In nature’s cove
we fit so closely together,
oblivious to the ripening nightshade.
It was all such insanity,
the rapid rejection of a life that could have been bliss.
Love, do not my arteries still beckon to you?
Do not my veins cry for you?
This regret is singeing me,
hot coals pressed upon delicate flesh.
Nothing can stop this pain,
surging like volts of electricity,
like you and I once were.
Once upon your chest, I feel into a slurred slumber–
” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”
-Thank you for reading and letting me know your thoughts, comments and questions in the comments below.