Like sinews and sutures,
Our bodies interlock,
Separated only by our breath.
Softer skin would be a liquid,
and softer eyes would be transparent.
A softer smile would be a kiss,
experienced by sight.
An arm, a clutch, your fingers crossed,
with words I lie here as I lay.
And in our words are we so lost,
but "we" is how we'll find our way.
A forest waiting to be cleared,
Impending doom for innocence,
Our kisses and our thoughts appear
Already dying, in a sense.
But senses don't deceive themselves,
Like light which yonder breaks.
Morning brings me mild mourning:
It's you the daytime takes.
So stay in spirit, tangled one,
Or overstay your stay.
And no more mourning will be found,
If we have our way.
Sep 14, 2010
Sep 14, 2010 at 10:16 PM UTC
Like sinews and sutures,
Our bodies interlock,
Separated only by our breath.
Softer skin would be a liquid,
and softer eyes would be transparent.
A softer smile would be a kiss,
experienced by sight.
An arm, a clutch, your fingers crossed,
with words I lie here as I lay.
And in our words are we so lost,
but "we" is how we'll find our way.
A forest waiting to be cleared,
Impending doom for innocence,
Our kisses and our thoughts appear
Already dying, in a sense.
But senses don't deceive themselves,
Like light which yonder breaks.
Morning brings me mild mourning:
It's you the daytime takes.
So stay in spirit, tangled one,
Or overstay your stay.
And no more mourning will be found,
If we have our way.
September 2010