remembering the last touch

on a bus again
energy at a lull
playing these lullabies, in my head
fingers drumming
how do you measure
a fickle thing
like talent
sandwiches of feeling
this trip gets longer
every time i take it
craving flesh, addicted
then unconnected
without being weaned
ruddy essence
hues of red and pink
earthy and ethereal
hands remembering the last touch
eyes melting in
recollection of the last sight
i know at this moment
you're beautiful
i don't even know
where you are
i've never seen these things
that you're seeing now
but I know you're still beautiful
that feeling of seeing
a new piece of art
awe and excitement
things i know because of you
inspiration like
flying carpets
and
ink dripping into milk
knowing that somehow
the world will carry on
with or without me
because of art
this what you make me feel
alive
the reflection in the mirror
hello mr. bus driver
no trouble here

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