As if spoken to you through the back
of your skull,
from below snowpack,
through the bell of time.
A haunting has no language,
though.
A life leaves no heat.
A kiss, no bruise.
So when it walks these halls
during the inverted night
greet it as a guest
who has come to dance.
Do not be so rude as to lead.
Sep 1, 2010
Sep 1, 2010 at 11:25 PM UTC
As if spoken to you through the back
of your skull,
from below snowpack,
through the bell of time.
A haunting has no language,
though.
A life leaves no heat.
A kiss, no bruise.
So when it walks these halls
during the inverted night
greet it as a guest
who has come to dance.
Do not be so rude as to lead.