nightsong (published)

i lightly caress
the tip 
of that mike

As if I was 
about to sing
your yet unwritten
silent

s
o
l
o

instrument naked—
my voice 
about to tickle 
Your well-versed skin

and enticingly 
bite on your
unsuspecting 
earlobe

A mascara tear
drops
and blurs
the mirrored image of 

our 

i
m
a
g
i
n
e
d

coexistence

the one that will never
be read aloud—
same as my solo 
will never ever get sung

it was 
your one and only
a capella kiss

yet that night 
you chose
not to 

l
i
s
t
e
n

to my naked
notes
that bleeding

nightsong