February 18th, 2012 at 9:50PM

The Map

I trace maps in the palm of your hand

That lead to my heart

But you can’t read them without ink

And I have no pen in hand

Only fingers and blood

Beating its course endlessly

Ebbing, flooding, dispersing, subsiding

These maps are what I give to you

When touch is all I want or need

and I can’t think of not being tactile

Because I am so sensitive

You always said I was too sensitive

But it was all to trace that map

You never read it

My heart was never found

Forever buried in a jungle

Of vines, veins and arteries

Flesh obscuring the sunlight

So I stayed forever

Tracing maps in your palms

With inkless pens

Using my fingers to draw in the sand

Too close to the shoreline

  1. iamlordgaga posted this
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