Email Poem

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Personal Note:

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Poem

I'm not there to see
but I know I'd be grabbed
even from this distance of 3336 miles
I feel it

there's an enormity in the words
'Four Darks in Red'
immersive already
I know this feeling

the rose petals that fell from a Valentine's bouquet I was too complacent about 

the spot of blood on my fingertip that oozes slowly and reminds me of death

the blood red lips of the prettier girl

a lonely sofa when there is only you awake

the red rimmed eyes of the tired soul who sits with you when you wake up afraid

fingerprints of work worn hands on the walls of your first home

the chaos of a sound wave, visually frightening and open to wild interpretation

the inside of your eyelids, stretched and covering a whole wall

take a stroll inside you own head
geometric, organic, planned but loosely
come what may, see what transpires 
there's no perfection - except maybe the final streak of a setting sun

a gap where the light comes in to create unique conditions in one single spot

emotion daubed into being
saturation that stops short of absorbing it's surroundings

something anyone could recreate - I inadvertently chose this as my last manicure before I fell apart/became a poet 

I didn't know it then, but I know it now
four darks in red
it takes no breath to say the words

four darks in red
the vampire that holds your hand
the lining of your coffin
the light you remember that's missing when you open your eyes
the depths of the grave 

I won't rot whilst there's blood moving in my veins
there is still time between the blood and the soil

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