Snippets : Collection of untitled poems

                        2

                        My eyes are scorched,

                        but the image burns on...

                        my lips are crimson,

                        yet the song plays on...
                       all hope is exorcised,
                       still possessed by desire...
                       waiting to live,
                       I die everyday.....

                          ***
                    

1   The receding wave
slides quickly down my leg
fleeing as if
the very touch of my skin
contaminates it....

I cannot look away,
my gaze is locked
on its silken retreat exposing me
in its hurried
yet graceful abandonment.

I stand there
foolishly hoping
the next time
the swirling waters
seek me, caress me,
they but look back.....
a return,
filled with regret
fuelled by longing.

They never stagnate,
never pause
the desertion a ritual,
a game played
over and over again.

I turn around
walk back
to the sands
that cling fiercely
emboldened by
the wet skin's weak defence.

I sprinkle them along the way,
remnants of a lost love
that I will seek many times over -
a trace to follow
my return but
a looking back,
filled with regret
fuelled by longing.....
to replay the ritual of desertion,
no longer just a game,
but a surrender to be played
over and over again      ***