crushed up
our love, a cloud in the air
like the death of a moth
crumpled in a child's palm,
all passion, all blood
turned to dust
in my heart an absence,
memories snatched;
little silk pieces strung like spider webs
across my chest:
amnesiac
you sob red rain
for love's lack, nothing left
except
that stabbing pain.
But in this bleary life there's billions
left to gain.
Aug 31, 2012
Aug 31, 2012 at 7:09 AM UTC
crushed up
our love, a cloud in the air
like the death of a moth
crumpled in a child's palm,
all passion, all blood
turned to dust
in my heart an absence,
memories snatched;
little silk pieces strung like spider webs
across my chest:
amnesiac
you sob red rain
for love's lack, nothing left
except
that stabbing pain.
But in this bleary life there's billions
left to gain.
Request permission to use this poem