The peeling wood, I wore its eyes in quiet song
Chasing slowly, round in circles tarnished white
and the rust climbed a frame, wishing it was ivy
(as the ghost of a flower mourned)

Humidly, the air
it stole a breeze of human simile
(and all the chrome…
I listened,
as it smiled its vaporous death)

Dissolving thresholds with closed eyes, until the daisies bled their open
I felt the bridge as it crumbled, and watched the lilies lift their roots
There I drowned, in a lake filled sky, beneath the wings of pale reflection

The solid grit of daylight fell
into a breeze that gathered all
Like paper swans, a metamorphosis,
a vastness drawn
I watched it settle to a glassy wane
and wondered, did the moon?
This magnitude of life behind a cloth of skin
A flutter, and the meaning wrenched…
If life alone is isolation
I am one step closer in a dream

Fragility…
A word becomes me, in the greyness of a September
(Be it left behind on chalked paths in fading light, and closing buttercups)
I see here now the broken soar, and know the feeling of akin
To you, the word I cup in silent palms, and wish a peaceful journey

Forbidden Pitch

The night, a deeper whisper…
To dance the velvet as it fell,
into a pirouette of skin
The breeze, becoming, silent song
I thought the moon could pour me,
into a porcelain of ocean self

May

The last drop at the bottom of the bottle…
(You are)
I watched the river draw a scarlet fade, as though roses could spill their blood diluted for consumption
(Would it be more palatable in pale?)
A vacancy, this place, the bar stool never occupied
I feel the haze of winter snow muddied by summer wishes, as it pulls my consciousness away
The soil that nurtured every Spring blown leaf (you are…)
But no one understood the tarnished bruise a petal wore to speak of how you were
I saw the apple peel itself oblivion and fate combined (imagine that, I felt it)
Come what, May? I ask the void
(I drank each drop to never find you)

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