Streamer Shadows

He doesnt jog through my head

he stands there,

watching me look the other way

seeming to know I wont be looking back

and there

I feel the rub in the purple bags my eyes have packed.

Im suspicious because it is the absence that I notice,

its the empty air all around me,

not the human things that used to pour from it.

Its the eyes in my head

his white pallor shoulders,

waiting for those sleeves to tear off.

We danced a few times,

daring himself to touch me

buried in the doubt that he can

glowing fire pores when he does but

danced back

across the middle ground

to set things in ovens

hes just some neck crick-crack

hes just another wild stripe.

This was posted 2 years ago. It has 1 note.
  1. itmoons posted this