Limbs spill out of
thin mist colored sheets,
like blues pouring from
brass ringed depths.
Before pain was words it was sound,
it was obscured sunsets and
rain jumping off windows.
It was leaving you in the morning,
footsteps accompanied by
still sleeping breaths.
It still is.
No matter if them angry words
stuck in your teeth.
If sometimes them boys
step out the past
to wander naked through your mind.
If the unset bone of my hurt
sometimes scratches at the corners
of your eyes.
Your body plays a blues that sings inside me.