2.4.12

Senses, and senseless.

Do you smell that familiar scent,
does it awaken your hearts beat?
Do you inhale the hope that lingers behind,
the senses that are left of mine?
The taste, the sights, the sounds of your voice.
The scents of hope.

The senseless hope.
In the middle of a dream,
the place between awake and asleep,
where hope meets promise...
are you are rendered speechless?
Rendered black and white.

I render the world in tones of grey,
convincing myself that there is no line,
no boundary between you and I.
But the sun throws a shadow
in front of my fingertips,
coloured white and black,
senses fighting back,
senseless fighting back.

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