(written few years back, it’s time for it to see the light of the day)
the gaps between our fingers
are the patches to the portal
when the broken spines on your back
whip the life at bay
nector dripping from the nest
reminds of the slipping pulses
when the blues above our head
cloth you like a sage
unheard echoes take a dip
(like) sparrow embracing its prey
but you drown in my head
as the smell of the grey
it fills the head; swirls the doubt
when you struck a gaze
go back to being the lad
scratching the uneven crayons