there is contraband
on my tongue
the taste
of cigarette on my mind -
not all space is equal, squared
the leveling of our soul is weighed
unfair -
degrees of reference left
unkempt
i walk cement you have
laid, crawl the cracks you
lie between - there lives the mark
of memory made - a world
you shared with me
the tattoo i wear is permanent
internal - covered by my skin in printed sight -a world
to bright to feel its flame
i drink (drunk) on the love
you gave to me - addicted deep
to loves memory- of which i
can not, can never be free...a world
to lost to feel its flame
there is contraband
on my tongue - the laughter of a song
unsung - no one to blame or call
upon - to save a world you shared
with me - and as i collect the
words (the gift few
the days we had) the fire that we knew
not all space is equal
squared the leveling of our soul
it is weighed unfair
bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2012
photo by Taryn Simon
