We

This originally was going to be part of some prose I'm writing, and still is, but I thought it made a nice poem too.

We are a pair of dots on the Wish Park wasteland,

Hand in hand, alone, save for a few crows hopping 

On the vast sprawl of football pitch.

We are a contorted body of desperation and curiosity,

Too engaged to notice the nightingale’s morning song

Too euphoric to feel confused.

We are close and sotto voce on the settee,

Eyes on a film, and its deep dark twisted impact 

Sinks into our open hearts like a sponge.

Reviews

[cad]

That reminds me of a few memories :)