like sunspots
images of her
and all the gaping holes
are projected on everything i see
straight through walls,
a milk filtered camera lens
and the eyes of other people who mean
nothing
[out] so i learned to thread
the dark side of a crescent
and suspended in the air, i choked
face against rainy glass
feeling for that brush-away-my-tears kiss [in]
yesterday will be every minute
that groundhog day
she traced ‘forever’ along the lines of my palm
kissed the scar on my shoulder
then disappeared
with nothing to hold
but the clean smell of her hair and this
vacuum
[out] but the glass broke through
and the paper cuts against falling sky
grazed the touch i thought i felt
sleeping in your black hole [in]
i cast my hand
the mould for the back of her head
so small and perfectly delicate
now awash in air
and the dragging weight of gravity
the light that was that smile
now glares through fattening fingers into
nowhere
[out] i hibernate under blankets of dust
curled up in a shivering ball,
chuck myself down with raining shards
and wait until the final crashing moment [in]
time
now, then and
always then
it cant bear to hear itself ticking
a slow motion of infinity
flashbacks of time going backwards
and forlorn
you could have taken me with you
[out] i spooled that thread for you to catch
but felt no tug on the end of our line
we’re still swimming in a laminated night
glossed for capturing development [in]
on and on it goes
over and around
the time her hand
over my jaw line around the back of my neck
inside and pulling at my stomach
that day so far away
yet imminent
i am always and ever waiting for
then
[out] i forgot to throw you the anchor
to fasten my toppling incubus
that night we broke through screens [out]