prayer

i should not be writing this not even thinking that's what they tell me they who love me and know that pounding my head is the only way to get through but i do see flashes of silver and i turn my head thinking of you in black and grey and a straight head every message could be from you you could be the next person to walk into the shop oh and we don't have the umbrellas now so you wouldn't have to bend ever so slightly and i turn around sometimes and my eyes widen and drop as though it's you but it isn't and they would tell me to work on getting over it and i must i must but i look long and longingly at the parking-spot wanting the bike to be there to walk into my room and find you and see you and see you just to see if i can and i hear old songs why i do like them the green and the dark the quiet and the grand pages pages of this of you burning black waves and your bones blood and trembling nerves the unbuttoning and taking apart all of you i saw the smell of icy orange breath and so cold my pillow i would have you on it nightly without fear sleep is overdone sleep and sleep tiring sleep touch and taste lick and bite dry loose skin yours and at this time only yours gleaming nipples and rough hair and my teeth now all weapons or maybe not i heard the fall building up again