old touch

hear the stones hiss,
listen,
listen to this,

o! all the signs
have lead to this,

sweet and idle,
the world revolves
and we are lost
in relentless
endless
bliss.

and yet, no such thing exists,
just memory
and silent tics,

the air sags
beneath the weight of it,

your skin, and you lips
the heat of your old touch,
as daylight slips.

O! all the signs
have lead to this,

the once fond feeling, all round, warm, and fleeting,
moments leak
and keep on leaking,

’til all is calm,
cool, and silent,
silence merits its new meeting.

old touch

uncleblack

Joined February 2010

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