Pulse Poem by Tsani Jones

I tasted your lips today as
A cold ghost of hope,
A grasp at unforgiving stone
While falling away.

I could make out the scent
Of a lonesome rose bouquet
Laid to rest on your lapel
As I sank deeper into Hell.

Can you hear me?

I am that voice that cries
For you to believe.
I am the electric taste in your
Mouth when our eyes meet.

My tears for you hide
Beneath a sad facade,
A broken surface,
The scarring of silk...

Your face is so faint
But your pulse is in my veins.