alone with you we talk in quiet
Photograph by © Tim Dunn, courtesy of the artist
The faded sun chains our silence near to a neon exit sign. Somewhere on your mind breathless depths carve wonder into corroded landscapes beneath untouched, empty skies.
Birdsongs fall from naked branches, strewn as wilted glass. The nightingale hides in the shadows of strangers arriving late to hollow rooms filled with broken flowers.
Now, the cavernous night succumbs to itself— we are unprepared but the stars are waiting. Alone, together, we feel in the dark for fallen clouds to soften the violence of uncertain expectation.
Bleeding lips, bitten bare, we savour the nothingness that pierces the horizon pretty, caressing the shadows of untold tomorrows.
This poem was first published in issue four of Good Sport