I've heard it said,
'I wish that I could smoke you like a cigarette.'
I've heard it sang,
'keep you deeper than anything,
take you deep inside my lungs.'
I know the pain of holding in,
not exhaling the smoke,
the burning eyes.
The burning lungs,
lips, and mouth... cotton fires blazing.
The clouds ablaze in pinks and reds
setting suns and the soul's haze.
Counter to the dreams of heaven
we make it here in the soil of our beds and
dream. Dreams of the between where we're together
an eternity stretching past forever.
Stitching eyelids with the husks of endless planes
eternal dusk. We figure eight and divide by two
two flames, gilded in the dark.
YOU ARE READING
She, Infinity
PoetryI mean to place sight within the constraints of sound and drive it into the bed rock, the foundation of feeling, literally rather than metaphorically.
