Love Wince

 

Touch me when the moon turns over

I’ll choke my pillow with my desire instead

My fingertips burns and scolds

Cold porcelain cups warm the morn

A silence waiting to be said

Strangers sharing our divided bed

The frosty glow of your computer

Steals you away with other suitors

I’m next to you yet miles away

Lost out to sea in my own emotion

I will return from foreign lands

And oceans

But will you recognise me?

Set your walls down and be, mine?

Recoiled affections, tortured sensory depravation.

Falling on numbness that denies

My love for you

A desolate landscape

Nothing grows here anymore

Fingerprints left on your door

DAMIEN ARNESS DALTON / POEMS: QUEEREST & DEAREST

Touch me when the moon turns over

I’ll choke my pillow with my desire instead

My fingertips burns and scolders

Cold porcelain cups warm the morn

A silence waiting to be said

Strangers sharing the divided bed

The frosty glow of your computer

Steals you away with other suitors

I’m next to you yet miles away

Lost out to sea in my own emotion

I will return from foreign lands

And oceans

But will you recognise me?

Set your walls down and be?

Mine

Recoiled affections, tortured sensory depravation.

Falling on numbness that denies

My love for you

A desolate landscape

Nothing grows here anymore

Fingerprints left on your door

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