the mind's recesses

i think i know

there's something faintly heart-breaking
in your copper gaze,
as you sit with a pen in your hand
and with your mind unfocused.

soft brown irises
with pools of black ink in the centre,
chapped pink lips and dark coils
of chocolate hair.

how cliché.
and yet, you inspire some
pathetic part of me to write poetry
about you.

in which universe are your thoughts?
what rocket did you use to get there,
and is it possible for you to take me
there as well?

i want to see your stars,
as they combust into blackholes
that drag you in deeper.
i want to see the sun
that you orbit around.

why is it that whenever i
lie in my bed,
i cannot stop thinking about you?
about the sadness sketched into
your dark eyes,
and the pursed, forlorn lips.

i think i know what plagues you
in the middle of the night;
what steals away your sleep
and paints shadows around your eyes.

if you would just look slightly
to the right, and catch my eye,
you might find the same thoughts
at home in my mind.

but if you're happy to sit there,
heedless of the world around you
as the teacher drones on about
pointless things,
i will turn around again with
my heart only a little heavier.

you are beautiful.
i only hope you know why i'm so tired.

but sleep - sleep is a small thing
against the endless landscape
of your copper gaze and
sad mouth.