a fingertip on my cheek
and I can feel it,
your love seeping into me
like an ink pen
balanced on fresh napkins
from here in my corner,
i’m facing the dimness, watching
shadows move across a band
of brilliant light beneath the door
I can feel it :
how my name is only breathed
in hushed whispers or
when you’re alone sometimes,
a low, muffled cry.
im quite acquainted with
the corner of your eye,
walking past but never quite turning.
and the top of your head
bowed,
as you light another stick of incense.
day by day watching flowers
in bloom wither to dried husks
beyond them, your silhouette
in the window-frame
bathed in sunset
can you feel it?
the heart that beats on
trapped behind glass.