I drank the molten gold of dawn, the scent of sunburnt cedar slow and deep.
Your name a whispered latticework, weaving through the marrow of my sleep.
I folded it inside the clefts where secrets rot and angels weep.
And wore it like a savage bloom, thriving where the broken keep.

You smiled and twilight thickened, thick as honey spilled in dusk’s soft cave.
A quiet pulse beneath my ribs, a tether forged from what I crave.
The air dripped ripe with bruised peaches, heavy in the slow decay.
While shadows breathed in fractured light, tangled in the frayed ballet.

I held your gaze like glass stained red with last night’s blood and sweetest wine.
Afraid to shatter fragile hope, but drunk on all the fractured signs.
Your voice a serrated lullaby, carving silence, sharp design.
And made my longing taste like ash, bitter-sweet and serpentine.

Some part of me blooms beneath your shadow, wild and ragged, strange and true.
A root wound deep in fevered earth, reaching for a fractured view.
Maybe it's love or maybe it's hunger, aching with a solemn hue.
A pulse that burns beyond the words, relentless, raw, and new.

If you left, I’d thread the morning with threads of bone and whispered air.
Still brush my hair like you were near, ghosts tangled in the fading prayer.
I’d live like love was carved in bone, fragile, brutal, and aware.
And breathe it in with every dusk, the quiet ache that lingers there.



Saturday 21 June 2025