so all the smog & silver
has made me feel heavier than
garments drenched in water,
& i have searched my desk
from corner to corner
hoping to find the answer
to the riddle; the
truth in my ardent
imagination.

why wait for words to be spoken
when i'll never hear you speak?
because i might never shake that hand,
give you a false name & take it back,
while writing down your details
on the back of my thoughts
it's the simplest thing,
at least i think it is.

i could lead you up the stairs
to the door away from everything,
& into nothing. so maybe we would
know all the differences in between

you're the stencil
that i colour
crimson.

could you give me a moment
so i can follow you home?