Coloured cries on the cusp of clouds,
sticky, silvery trails sliding down.
Lunar illuminations pulling glistening tides.
All the mistakes made memories miasma,
holding on too tight, terrified twisted together.
Finding a feeling and a furious fear forever
bound to regret, regarding reeling,
racing, roaming bodies.
Never your body I want - a representation
of reality.
A ghostly touch: rough then smooth
sighs down sides and endings
joined up.
Sand moving across saltwater flesh.
Trusted trysts and traces of air
down throats and choke.
Preparations, anticipations - cold away
from high humid heights.
Beauty bordering on bitterness.
Bedraggled descent and
maddening, impossible peaks
and wet, white ghostly angel crests.
Witches would wonder but I
didn’t want to know you.