When you leave I become
the sea gull begging salt from
from the briny air.
My veins are a winding tunnel
Of deep purple sea.
I channel you in the night owl’s
perpetual call that awakens the
Subconscious to the feel of
your phantom hand at the angle of my
hips.
At dawn your shirt hangs from a
Closet door in the buttery sunlight
and I become so small I could slip
inside the lining of your chest
sheltered by your warm skin where I
long to be.
art by Anuraag
