Your deep-set eyes
Touched a part of me I never knew about.
However,
Never knowing was the better
And knowing what was intended never to be known
Thread the cotton to a needle that stitched insanity
With fantasy
And mortality.
♢
Your smile
Touched everything around you.
And yet
It coloured scarred souls with solace,
Scarred coloured souls with pain
Glinted in hungry moonlight and affected the affecting.
Your smile never hurt, it led them to it and melted away,
Never appearing to harm, and never not.
♢
Your hands
Never touched me.
Although,
It slipped my thoughts, it inked my doubts,
That never touching never meant nothing,
But something never touched glittered in brittle, archaic value.
To touch was to taint.
Perhaps it laid in faith.
To touch God, they said, hands folded towards the breathless heavens,
Is a desire blinded with impossibility.
But was to touch God to taint it with reality?
Was your desire to touch me
Blinded with impossibility?
YOU ARE READING
Eveningtime Darlings
PoetryThey sat in the languid eveningtime, singing 'darling, darling, please be mine.'