Catherine Heath
September 2015
My inarticulate ramblings
Of a Sunday morning:
I love the way your piercing eyes
Rove over youthful bodies.
There was a kind of beauty
And a promise
Dripping over girls--
Delightful ecstasy.
Heady days
Of catalysing dreams
Unfolding soft, slow and dark.
Microscopic changes kindle,
Burn, and fade:
No one knows
You never were the same.
Tortured difference;
A repugnant shade Of orange,
Standing burnt and crisp
Against their cooling gaze.
“It’s just a phase,”
They say.
One day, some day--
Frightened, pioneering,
Amazed--
You’ll forget what it was like
To feel afraid.
Credit: Photo by Nicolas Ukrman on Unsplash
