Unfinished

It feels somewhat unfinished but for now u am pleased.

I am watching the water drip
From the faucet
And somehow the sound
Is disconnected
From what I'm seeing.
I'm here
But I'm not really here
I'm traveling the galaxies
Of your bruises
Hopping from constellation
To constellation.
Occasionally I trip
But I feel no pain,
How could I?
I'm craddeled in the curve
Of your wrist
Thinking that if I could
Just dig my way deeper
You'd warm my small
Brittle bones.

Author's Note

I hope to finish this one day, but I'm very happy with the poem it's become.