Fever

Waiting for this fever to break,
Tossing and turning and falling through space
While your face floats just beyond my peripheral

My soul feels like crumbling parchment
Made of October's fallen sanguine leaves
And delicate petals of primrose
Woven together with strands of winter sunset.

Your name is scrawled across my heart a thousand times,
The wind threatens to sweep you into the air
And once again take you away from me
While your memories casually play
With the frayed edges
Of my concentration,
Folding them over
To mark your place
While you are gone.