my poem titled “Hieroglyphics”

life, poem, poetry, writing

I stare at you like your expressions are hieroglyphics

With the patience of an archaeologist I try hard to decipher

But I come away with sand running through my fingers

And the sand is cold

Cool to the touch, like you’re carved from ice

I wait for you to melt in this desert we’ve created

The only heat comes off of me in waves

And in the distance between us it dissipates, and evaporates before it reaches you

And maybe if I stood closer my heat could melt your frozen figure

But my feet sink deep into the sand that’s fallen through my fingers

And I’m stuck watching you through those fingers

Until you freeze the desert and let me walk free

-Collins

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