Bleeding air

Wait for this dust to settle.
A hurt that’s wrapped tightly in a bandage.
Squeezed into numbness.
You asked me here, you want me to stay.
But to remain means deserting me.
Leaving myself alone to drift into space.
You handle my heart so divinely.
Picking off the dirt that reminds me of my past.
Scars that taught me not to break.
To catch you, half a world away; lost in the fog of tomorrow.
Cancelling time zones as the tock and the tick irritate.
And your kiss, inebriates it all.
This Atmosphere changes everything.
Up here, I cannot see the fall.

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26/10/202222/05/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: blood, space, travelTags: bleed, blood, distance, falling, flight, heart, heartache, hope, love, past, plane, poem, Poetry, space, timezones, tomorrow 4 Comments