#wrtrble

your eyes painted storms gray storms that pull at the shore of me your lips carry the heat of unfinished poems half-breathed into the evening air

the beret slips like a secret a tilt of rebellion against quiet obedience every pencil stroke whispers "you are both muse and flame"

i want to trace the blush rising on your cheek with fingers stained in charcoal and longing to know if the warmth on canvas burns as fierce as the warmth of you

you are a sketch that refuses stillness ink trembling so close to life a softness sharpened by shadows a question i ache to answer

...touch

and still

the hours pressed against my skin like quiet guests that wander in then slip away without a sound no map to mark where they are bound

i walked among the noise of men and thunder took their names like embers in my chest yet here at dusk the world unlearns its shouting and lays its weary whispered voice at last to rest

so let me fade as fields in evening’s keeping no louder than the quiet that claims the sky for what we are is carried past our knowing and even stone remembers how to