I can hear my heart creaking
In the silence of this place
Where, ere this season of muteness,
Laughter drowned our cares.
I can feel my cheeks burning;
The odour pokes my nose,
As my tears set ablaze my cheeks.
Cheeks, ere now rosy with smiles.
I can smell my fawning fears;
Knowing that each silent morning,
Is a fart, pungent and ripe,
Brewing a storm to blow you away.
I can feel the formless shadows
With these fingers, outsretched.
Ere now, they would trace
The soft contours of your face.