this i know …
that without you I am a half-written script,
a pear without lips to suckle honey from it’s flesh,
a song with slow, sad music,
and the evening sky without it’s perfect necklace of stars.
i am unfinished art
and paint trapped in a brush,
aching to be swept into colours that must
burst from the day.
i am an unquenched sigh,
the breath that gets caught inside a chest
when a lover enters the room for the
first time today.
— susan southern-braiden.
( ( ( more of my poetry here … ) ) )