Sunday, 2 September 2012

Divenire and Fly


If there are mysteries that traverse the hollows in your cheekbones. 
Are there worlds there, that only the bravest can go?
In your life, there was nothing but yourself and your dreams. 
Echoing out of the day and swallowing the night. 

If there are notes in this world to describe, the feeling of your hand on mine. 
Are there songs to carry you into a dreamless sleep?
In your eyes, as red as a forest fire, oxygen sucked away from my lungs. 
Echoing into a sharp wave, collapsing the room around us. 

If there are lies you are chasing to mold into hollow truths. 
Are there words spoken that even you can't hear?
In your heart, that broken shattered core coughing up your words.
Echoing into your chest, a fluttering heartbeat never felt. 


Is there anything sacred left? 
Is there a single part of me that isn't infected?
Does life have nothing in store for me but circumstance?
Petty affection crowning sordid inperfection. 

Another written, balled up and and thrown.
Valediction united on its own.

If you don't exist and I do?
Is that proof that God is a lie?
If I can have nothing inside myself but you,
Life may indeed be worth something.

Affair of the heart, wrapped up alone. 
A contender for sunlight and for the throne. 

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