You move like blood
A slow blue creep
Out of liquid
I wonder at your
Deeper chemistry
Whisper of palms
Witches breath
You talk of death
Skin cool to touch
In fever dreams
You visit and sit
Like a clot
At the end of our bed
And will not leave
I cannot sleep
Your hand is empty
Tired of trying
To grasp eternity
There is no love
In this cold place
Only memory
Where I see you
Face down in the pool
Of your infidelity
© shaun patrick green 2014
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