By David Wright
Light speed
Is
Slow, when it
Is compared
To how quickly love comes inbound.
A mind cannot
Think as
Fast as a heart can bleed – breakneck speed
It freefalls
Beyond where you can catch it.
We try to
Convince ourselves that we have
Control. Tiptoeing
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?
Your voice
Or a whisper bathed in cinema light poured
Like warm chocolate into my ear?
Was it
How you say my name
Or when you raise your eyebrows and call me “Mr?”
Was it
How you looked sat beside me beneath the chandelier
Or the look you tried to hide when you felt
Your own heart begin to
Fall?