Near

  I am as near to
you
as the carpet
to my cheeks
when I feel
as hollow as
a brick
which lie--
lay--
still,
in the cracks
where they are
placed,
and your fingers
do not extend
to my head
because they
can't stroke
that
emotion.
So rest
your innocent
bruises
on mine
and
breathe into
my lifeless,
sick,
conscience
until I fill
whatever blossoms
from my
despair.