Fading Scars
Broken oceans built on breaking waves
A rigid caress on frothy sand
Weaving through teasing toes
Twenty times to feel it writhe
An intense stroke reaches immaculate taste
To know everything; In turn, to work for nothing.
So utterly comfortable that you want nothing
No more than what you have
You can’t look at it. You can’t touch it.
It’s floating like heavy heartbeats
More complete with this perfection at my fingertips
Than when walking alone on that frothy shore
Reading into simple glances…memories past seem so trivial,
Equivalent to silly insignificances making my world go round
Like touching a tattoo: Not feeling the colors embedded in skin
Even when removed, there it still remains
No ink, but tiny scars to run fingertips across
These fleeting imperfections
Faint impression of reality years ago
Remain souvenirs that never disappear.
