‘The Reclining Female Nude’
my body; an art, a showcase, 
a display of cosmic crevices 
and an encyclopaedia of faces - 
torn pages from my spine 

papyrus lungs and coffin 
breath; 
your words run dry like the 
rivers in my veins and

I take Neruda from your arms
spilling romance onto
the foundation of our 
souls - 

’there was something about 
you earlier...’

and there is something 
about you 
now
as pavements crack beneath
brittle bones; 
as apocalyptic trumpets 
sound for the end of 
our forever  

there is something 
in entwined fingers 
and the way sleepy
eyes 
leave you thirsty; 

sip from my
collarbones-
let my skin be
your cup.