PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Sometimes I sleep for centuries

and still wake up

alive

on end

on fire.

I don’t feel anyone here

but the bridges

they burn with a presence.

It is your

phantom touch

and it shocks me alive.

Skin on stairs

Mouth on mine

Breathe a resolution

and the castles

we can make them crumble.

I am shivering

in ways

you would blush to think of.

I have not met

this kind of torture before,

feeling a ghost of a touch

shimmer my skin

and standing face to face

with a mirror that does not know you.

I am not being held prisoner

but kept out of the air you breathe

and there is laughter from the world that

thinks it could bring us down.

Anytime I get

a glimpse of you,

your phantom touch,

I catch it in a blink

and save it for so many dreams

Tell me which

slivers you want me to slice up

and in the hours when I lie next to you

I will spill them on your skin

and hold nothing back.