Can you see me
in the periphery
or does your vision
become blurred?
But I know you hear
the word
winged on the wind
blown from my lips
and kissed by fire.
I taste you on the tips
where
every madness known
slips away and
the night
swings too
swiftly into day.
and
I see you clearly
when
hearing your words
nearly sends me
crazy with desire
kissed by the fire
again.
© 2017, John Smallshaw.
