Beyond the stairs
Past the strands of raven hair and wind-worn curtains
The delicate war between love and hate
Is waged on battlefields scented with cordial

Borders change by day
As her succulent skin is caressed, and scratched
She grabs pillows against the soldier's soft attacks
And returns volleys of similar weaponry

Her eyes are fortified by a dream
As she walks through beauty and comes back again
Hands and teeth clenched, her beleaguered body gives way
To the serenity of a cease-fire love affair

Careless steps have taken him
To the intersection of light and fantastic
For "tripping is the sport of younger men"

For all gathered here, we spectate
Until our eyes have pierced the darkness
To witness the most unattainable dreams

He is thin, pale around the eyes and lips
The world weighs heavy on his heart
As the pressure slowly suffocates him

He hastens to his feet, nimble as the men of yore
Releases his tongue from the clasp of his teeth
And finds a song, rusted over by years of silence

So the morning comes with its make-believers
We are just sketches from an artist's daydream
Every action comes with a reaction
Every stitch in time saves nine lives
And tomorrow will break like the ocean

She stares out the window of a taxi
Knowing where she's going isn't where she's been
Every voyage starts with a footfall
Every storm begins with a raindrop
And tomorrow will break like a tender grey sky

The illusion of my folklore is captivating
And it tethers me to this concrete lullaby
Every avalanche begins with a ripple
Every expedition begins with a tripwire
And tomorrow will break like hearts of porcelain