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paper

there is only paper now
words are now unloved
but be brave ghost of my fingers
and sing your songs of her skin
into the cartoon morning
in all the clown colors of wanting you
melting on that unwritten page.

Editing stage: 

Comments

welcome back. It Is tough to describe the one you love with mere words..........stan

Paper, rock, scissors. Fairy dust.

~A

And your most beautifully painted paper,
cannot be unloved
your ghost fingers have patterned it across her skin
as you draw cartoons in your mind
and end up rocking with laughter
in gay striped sheets of more paper..

Your little sister Ann.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

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