Tracings

Tracings

I have graphite on my knuckles
And the residue of tears
No words for you tonight
Just lines, just lines
And the finest sharpness

I surprised myself when I showed you
My tender tracings
It might have been bravery
Or just a belly up surrender
Fearless and careless

After all, what is there left to confess?
That your face is my bandage,
That I fear the rust?
Is it the presence or the absence of my love for you
That leaves this red powder?