June-Breeze

Sometimes you come to me on June-breezes,
like I don’t know, if anything I can taste your words from eons ago,
I thought it was a history lesson, but my heart’s known your magic,
My eyes have known and been captivated by your spells
And I know somewhere deep into my cavities,
there’s an island I left far too soon,
old feelings left to simmer for far too long,

It’ll be midnight,
And sometimes I’ll wonder why on earth I gave up all the bad things
which made your love-needles skin me more slowly,
the drugs that mangled my stories, the drinks that contorted my thoughts
the faces and the flesh I fucked,
There’s midnight in your eyes
and I have taken far too many taxis home from Radius Street

And I’m eating all the atoms that make up you,
it’s laptop diaries like this at half one
That make me return to familiar itches,
They make the computer storage in my head flash,
I’m saving things automatically, and the recycle bin just won’t give,
You won’t permanently dissipate
I must’ve put you on the pen drive too,

Scratching the stabs of the needle where I used to inject daily doses of ‘your love’
Blossoms, fairytales,
Anti matter, illogical numbers and imaginary friends,
Nights spent curled up with kleenex and empty syringes,
Where have you all gone?
And just like that I stood in the kitchen,
You leave the way you came, on air, on whispers

Pray God you won’t return, but like any addiction,
You do.

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