I retreat to this corner
for nothing else but
to inhale your crisp indulgence
as it leaps from the folds
and stitches in your spine -
intoxicating and inviting.

I know the thread and grain
of your skin, tracing it
daily against the atmosphere
in my self-imposed
separation.

The orangey-black
of your countenance
catches my eye
beneath the bed,
filling me with guilt
over my absence.

It is time which
holds me in place,
away from your comforts.

This technological neo-nazi
with its red digital swastika
of numbered dictatorship
pressed hard against
the black shirt of my
bedside clock face.

But in these forgotten hours,
I am a rebel, skipping unseen
out the window of responsibility,
locking yesterday's greatest
moments between
your silent pages.

Recreating
a long lost
love affair.

03/03/2004

Author's Note: I suppose one would call this a dedication to my diary - the keeper of my deepest, darkest secrets.

Posted on 03/03/2004
Copyright © 2025 Karen Michelle