Breaths tumble softly
                            over scruffy bed sheets, an air
                              of sour milk

                  lingers
                                         just behind some numbered pages.


         Soluble colour, lion-like petals
                             swaying in temperate swings
                                of nostalgia;
           blue tac from a
                                                    paper box...




         Hair, and specs of sugar-coated skin, warm
                            and thicker than gold, when
               the

                                 limitless sound
                                      of erasing a mistake
               is the easy rush of
                                                   cool,
                                                                 chilly
                                                                               water.

         An eyelash in the sleeve of a jumper.


         Before letting freckles topple out onto the pillow,



                          take    something    in.