She didn’t say anything.
Why wasn’t she saying anything?
But she had.
She just couldn’t hear her.
She had always heard her through her heart, and now it was frozen to her cheeks.
Tag: love
It poemed through your death
the colour from her dream
it drained right through dimensions
the syntax and the stream
ponders myself
A day that’s already bled in
(365 times Hallmark)
to our psyches’ movement
through mountained plains
perpetual translating
of the countenanced refrains
that echo
after birth.
he wore his strobe light
to precise his own sight
incising surreal
into a savoury byte
“You know, in all honesty, I am getting tired of these games. It actually breaks my “heart” to see what you are doing. And in the end, I am not helping at all…”
