Sunday, 3 February 2019

Touched

I turn the page, impatient
Petulant eyes scouring the black on sepia
cursing the seconds lost, 
the eyes trying to focus on the new words
aching to make sense
Like a lover seeking consent

May I kiss you once more?

Words leap out at me
demanding attention,
coaxing me to line my mind’s inner shelves
a perfume laying claim to the vacant air
bribing my thoughts to concur
seducing a response from me 

leaving me gasping for the right feeling.

A deep ink envelops; unnoticed
Words lay claim to my being
I comply outright; deep-dyed
sinking deep into the well of meaning
Unwilling to flail, float, feel
The ink swallows me;

I feel touched.

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