Where the wind
Settles upon us where
The wind dries within us.
Separated by our backs
And intuitively spoken
Without the normal of
My chins;
Hanging on to your skin
And I am relieved of your
Magic. Maybe I will forget
You but remember
How this page looked before
I tattooed its
Distance with my pain.
I need to be inside your
Love to be in love with love;
Stalking your eyes with
My vacancy dumb.
Numbed by our equals
We penetrate the poetry
Into our worlds apart.
I am your writer
I am your winter
I am your writer
I am written in your
Lose of breath.
