To my darling,
You, unfathomable thing; you, lovely and desperate thing. You are as all-consuming as springtime in the wilting, agonizing seasons of myself. When I lay in the cobalt stained silence of my solitude I can only imagine that hearing your breath is what brought worth to being born; and further, worth carrying on in the empty sentimental of aching crevices: my fractured body. In the weary winter of your faint whispers, in that lonely distance that makes my heart tremble, I sow wilting stars and lull them with metaphors and descriptions of your heart; together we sigh. I feel the moon has grown weary of the poetry, the swallows too. All the same I find no crucible to bring to mortal measures this well of yearning.
With Sincerity,
josie
YOU ARE READING
wildflowering
PoetryA selection of love letters, diary entries, prose, poetry and fragments of writing. "I find you where there might have once been a horizon, smudged between the esoteric press of lips and folding of hands; I find you in the immemorial gasp between b...
