The Taste Of Your Skin

The rain comes
And I stand there drenched
Till my bones, outlined in silk
The colour of the sullen sky,
Begin to quiver from the cold

A deep breath wakes me from my stupor
And I walk away, trying discreetly
To make the distance between my feet
And your window, inversely proportionate
To that between my hurt and my heart

In my kitchen, I gather my strength
While tears weaken my lemon tea
And memories of laughter and warmth
Flood my remorseful veins, draining me
Of hope, turning off my lights

The glare of the rest of my life
Seems too much to bear head on
I need a diversion, a warm body to hold,
A hangover to nurse, a cause to rally for,
Something that stops the straying of my thoughts

So I tighten the leash a couple of notches, for now
Freshen my cup, blow my nose, stand straight
And decide – that this love is far from over
What must cease, though, is rending my sanity
In a freezing downpour, washing off the taste of your skin

(September 1,2006)