Faraway

Do you ever dream of me?

Laid out before you like a piece of silk brocade

colours intertwined with your fingertips

that furtively pick and stroke every inch of coiled flesh

What master of the weaveworld have you made me?

My embroidered heart lies open to you, beating.

The darts on my ribcage are pinned against the wall of my desire.

You torment me as you stand overtop.

Your over-zealous sincerity stings my ears and slaps my face

as I am whiplashed back to reality.