A poem for pining.
Shaky inhales of candle wisp
between eyelids pregnant pinching glass,
lantern blurs of paprika hair,
dancing in a dream in your living room.
These days loosen my grip on the world,
I can feel the street lights dimming,
window shop art seeping paint
in my peripheral,
through your walls
onto your fingertips
as you bring color to our tango
as you play the piano of my heartbeat,
wishful deliberations and almost memories,
all at once shrink within a frame
I grasp tightly, wishing so what never was.
