Raziel Moore | Monocle

Braille Burn

In Poem on 14/09/2014 at 3:47 pm

Poor bloodhound that I make
eyes closed or night blind
I can’t find you in the open

Scent finds me only
coaxed from and mixed with touch
nose brushing or buried in you

Inhale to read you

Fill with your stories my lungs

My own only opium
drawn deep to singe in
against coming days of empty air

  1. scent is very sensual and quite intoxicating. i really like this poem, Raz.

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