Leave a comment

Meeting Your Eyes

I am afraid
to look into your eyes;
afraid that I will
discover exactly what
you stole
from me.

I did not want
this separation;
this searing,

and angry,
molten lava runs
riot through my veins
each time

I hear
your tomb stone
silence.
(After all this empty space,
and still no
confession.)

You shake your head;
you do not know
where the years have gone
either.

And if I look up,
just for a second,
into the grey north sea
of your eyes,

I will find
that you never knew
the crystal damage
done to a clock

removed
from its casing.

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

%d bloggers like this: