the lost man chronicles
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Sunday, April 16, 2006

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Orange Tears

i am separating from myself.
growing long, as if
my soul lifts itself, away
from my body which yearns,
longs, to sleep;

much like it yearns
when it is lost in the furls
of your sheets and
your life; grey folds filled with pain
hidden from the trauma that others
less sane, who share with you daily;
diurnal yearnings to be free
of their gnawing pain, their grief,
their own fears and anxieties.

you look up at the ceiling
and merely smile a flatline
in return; sometimes
burning to likewise share, if only
to show you care
and likewise understand.

i understand.

and your tears upon my skin
draw me in
into this most profound
love for you.

i am separating from myself.
much like i separate the membrane
of orange wedges for you;
each one a pocket rife with citrus-
sweet teardrops, freed for you;
freeing you to share those
of your life
with me.


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