By David Wright
Slow, when it
To how quickly love comes inbound.
A mind cannot
Fast as a heart can bleed – breakneck speed
Beyond where you can catch it.
We try to
Convince ourselves that we have
Among the kisses and the brushes of the
Fingertips. Like disregarding a flower
Without realising you’re being intoxicated
By its fragrance.
What was it?
Or a whisper bathed in cinema light poured
Like warm chocolate into my ear?
How you say my name
Or when you raise your eyebrows and call me “Mr?”
How you looked sat beside me beneath the chandelier
Or the look you tried to hide when you felt
Your own heart begin to