Preference of Proximity

My eyes are clouded with the dew

Of without-you.

 

In the chronic ache of unfilled space

Your matter’s much-missed;

 

An empty outline sore to trace

And sadder to kiss.

 

I try to plug the void with papers thick with plastic verse,–

Learning by the letter the sheer solace-lack of words.

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s