My eyes are sensitive to the impression
you perpetually stained onto them so
that they excessively ache (when you leave)
and I'm endlessly replaying these
fragmented instances that
twirl out around my limbs so
echoing the inaudible mutter of pearls
falling from your skin
It's staggering inspiration forming within us
(around us and through us,
- and I think it's in your eyes...)
with you, licking syrupy temptation from your kiss
unaccompanied, and I'm living in our .memories.
and always...

I'm placid watching through delicate perspectives,
fragile reality slip through the pieces of