Eraser

I picture myself on a balcony. square matte black

plates showered in icing sugar and a slab

of chocolate torte. a girl with nice legs and a heart

slightly smaller than mine across from me

sipping something strong. it is a perfect June evening.

the skies are washed with melted marshmallows and

liquid caramel, equally as beautiful as her legs around

my neck. the back of 11PM sees her tongue erase my pain

and all of the liquor in my posh fridge-freezer. we listen

to pop songs from our youth, dance and talk dirty

I take a breath of sea air first thing in the morning

and hang over a book of romance poems as I wait

for my love to awaken. colour drains

from my cheeks as our lips meet

— good morning my Love

as I feel her arms wrap around my core

I become transparent but she tells me

I am radiant, so long as I can still see her

and so I am

Image courtesy of Aike Jansen