byzantine
my mind lies miles down, weighted by marble,
azure seabed of jettisoned blueprints.
it’s strange what swims through to permanence;
like how you slept with the curtains open.
always. the ochre eye of midnight streets
holding me closer than you ever did.
yours was the first face mine saw out of the
ashes, and i set myself alight all
over again trying to test which pantone
you liked best. but you didn’t even see me.
my hooks turned inward, my clay hands couldn’t
hold. i snapped the brushes i gave to you
in favour of sandstone stability.
i had to build my own sanctuary.
