Coming Home

Shadows coated in mist and cobwebs coated in morning tears.
You're like a dream I cannot forget cannot remember running through
my blood a black mirrory ribbon rippling tingling with hidden excitement.
I want to throw myself into you your mysterious depths fragments of
which can be Seen in the sparkling eye the sidewalks slick
with drizzle the winking lights arching over crowded streets
announcing the season's arrival; or Heard in the voice of the begging
guitarist the clucking tongue the myriad of colourful
voices the hum of impatient traffic; or Felt in the emptiness of the
station before sunrise the efficient clicking of heels from
Westminster Underground past the Houses and onward to mundane destinations the
wild freedom of Friday nights at 2 in the morning when an
entire week's worth of stress and deadlines and teeth gritting
beneath polite fronts bursts out of the soul. I left you and now you're trapped in a little pocket in my heart,
shrinking and shrinking as reality pushes against me from all sides.
I never embraced you, only watched with curious eye wishing wistfully
that you would invite me in. --Tigergem