brian thomas madden
Ireland (between an ocean and
dedicated to my muse as always
Trapped in a terminal, my skin crawls between a sea of strangers and digital displays.
With a mocha in hand, I wander in an aimless daze through bookstores and duty free.
Pages of a hard leaf through my fingers, my mind too vexed to rest on any one sentence.
The stale sweat of the long haul flight needs to be scrubbed away,
but I am too terrified to wash any trace of your scent from my flesh.
There is only a few photographs and memories to feebly imitate your presence.
Finally I am released from here to baggage claim and then home.
Alone in my bedroom, sleep should come naturally
but it's a futile pursuit to wake to the chill of an empty bed.
Maybe I'll summon the echo of your sleeping mumur,
and pretend my head is still nestled against your black curls
and my left hand balanced on your beating heart,
but for now there is only fleeting dreams to house our embrace.
[This message has been edited by brian thomas madden (07-13-2010 09:44 AM).]