Let me vanish
In you,
Your love, your gaze, your embrace;
That illusion
Just for a moment


As if it had been a dance,
Inhabiting the role and space.
The outpouring is allowed to flourish
Entrapping us entirely.

Letting yourself escape for a while
In a story that only you know,
Becoming what you
‘Sort of’ already are,
With a bit of an extension,
Truth refracted,
A hint of embellishment, if you will.

What you realise is
This is the only way to get what you need?
To keep you safe,
Enliven withering hope.
The landscape of your life,
That journey has so far refused to begin.
What we conjure becomes
The next best thing.

The immediacy of such a primitive emotion
Coated in rawness,
Undoubtedly strung up by the heart;
Held taut, quivering silently.
The whispering vibrations
Hum and fade
Hum and fade
Hum and fade…
And here lies the remnants
Of emptiness.

It’s not that they aren’t there,
They are there, believe me.
Hiding deceptively, all coy and innocent
Residing beneath the surface
Threatening to well up and escape.

But they never quite do.

Maybe the tears don’t feel
That they have been earned yet.

Swelling to bursting in an instant,
The next moment you don’t even
Have the energy to make a
Sound as the futility of –
Of sobbing overwhelms you.

Or maybe,
They know that if I let them start
They may never stop.

Those people have gone
Literally or figuratively;
And so have you.
Rather too far
And not within meaningful reach
Only you
When the current should be alternating.
Not anymore.

I don’t want to start again.
Tired, aching eyes –
Even though I have slept.

It’s not fine. It’s not.

Lost in the handwriting,
The moment of the pen mapping your thoughts
Giving them a voice,
Giving light to what you have to say.

And before you know it
There you lie
Naked on the page.
Your form traced in ink
As it swirls and mixes with
The Fallen, salty tears
Soaking into the skin.

Light reaches the eyes,
The skin; our caresses.
Softness as the pen sculpts
And the chest relaxes,
Space between the ribs decreases –
Holding you tighter.
Seconds elongate
As the periphery spins,
The page boundaries now insignificant.

The stains of the ink
Scarring the body;
Fading to silhouette
And sustaining you in some way.