s.c. Svendsgaard

Sacrilege IV

Hey, you

I wish you 

an olive green ribbon

I tie round my wrists

where your hands used to go.

I feel them linger on my waist

Early morning, sugarspun light

Before my bathroom mirror.

When I say I love you

All the bells in the church break

And we go running from them like rivers.

I miss you.

Come home.

Love, 

s.c.