Thursday 21 March 2013

Rib Bones

Inhale
The soft-spoken lips of morning crackle like
Dusty vinyl over the skin of your cheekbones
Exhale
Tattered breaths ripped by dust motes
Balanced precariously on tendrils of honey light
Inhale
The space between
Limbo of what could be
Exhale
Remember me
A ghost hand plays across rib bones and
You start to breathe


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