Dressed in Words

Hidden in the shadow

of the flame in your heart,

I care for the black flower

of abandoned solitude.

 

Your lips dress my thoughts

into words, your soul dances like

my body. I wish I could dive into

your supposed morning,

but the last star stuck to

my lashes.

 

I'm afraid of the unfinished scream,

outdated scars on

the white back of the page.

I am casually learning

the taste of your breath.