Untitled

I’ve talked to you
about this before.
You’ve answered with your eyes
but you’re unsure about your mouth.
It quivers and is silent.
Your tongue has problems.

The disquiet grows
like a terrible acorn.
It spreads out it’s branches
and they enter my chest,
entwining themselves about my heart.
It makes the beating slow and drawn out.

The roots dig deep,
looking for water or
something terrible
to feed on. They are like
long brown teeth sinking
deep into the neck of the world.

I went away to see
if I could find your face
in any of the stones along the beach path
but I couldn’t find you amongst the waves.
I couldn’t find you amongst the seaweed
or the ashes of the beach fires.
It made me ache
for your hair in the wind
and your smile.
It made me ache for you
and the promise of your fingers,
your kiss.

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