Apricot Press

and did you really set out to come to this place

just in body, not mind, or anything real

did you intend the grey mottle you wore as a coat

to sink like a stone into the embrace of the sky

did you mean to nod to the beat of his speech

as smiles wrapped around your face in a cable of pearls

so you tilted your head on an axis away

from his orbit and the thoughts that satellite out

and drift off to a world where you are the brightest thing

or even alone, whichever comes first

where every touch is as soft as the hand

that now cradles your face, but in being your own

can never be matched in understanding your skin

the smooth yellowing surface feeding your heart

Photo credit: Eli DeFaria