A word searching for a woman
Laid on the back of the curtain
Waiting for the last drop to fill
The little ink less space of the line.
A woman searching for a word
To fill that somewhere lost,
Somewhat said, not understood,
Spacefull place across her page.
It is a far infra deep capsule
That holds his body
That sweats his life away
That melts his mistakes away
In the page she’s taken from him.
It is far far distant to map,
Through the lines of safekeeping oneself
The ink or spot or line or page,
Call it what you want,
Feel it as you wish,
Numb it as you can.
It’s all words lost in the mind
Of one, who tries to figure out
A way to dot all one’s i’s.