CarrollBlog 8.15

Another Long Night in the Office of Dreams

There's a woman I'm in love with, but I forget

what she looks like, so I take out my paintbrushes

and create my image of her.

Your eyes are blue like the morning of going.

Your ears are tender twists of logic. Your thighs

are impossible avenues my car swerves out of control on.

I want to cut the silence with your shoulderblades,

blow moon-shaped kisses to orbit your skull

as you sleep on the highest ledge of my insomnia,

but I'm a broken promise...