Meteorites
How soft I must seem
when you mistake my off white skin
for a bruised canvas
reflecting misguided passions
from a place I can not remember
I will not wear this skin
the way your mind sees it
Maybe I seem cold
when I casually speak of death
or disregard tears
falling quietly on shoulders
that bare lonely hearts and forgetful years
I never mistook death
for a reason not to live
Words turn to lyrics
when music replaces a lone thought
and makes melodies
of sincere accidental progressions
or your calculated decrescendo
I dreamed you back to me
and the choir sang our song
The obvious pattern breaking with your heart
as you attached yourself to a dying sun
falling from a sky so far away
We are the only witness
1 comment:
If I were a leper, I would totally get that party started.
Post a Comment