Arrhythmia
the push and pull, the dissonance,
the heavy trawl of weightlessness—
the irony of freedom.
I wonder where souls like ours end up—
on a bookshelf, in the bleeding hearts of poets
or dead, forgotten, wishing we would have loved one wholly instead of many in parceled fragments.
Oct 3, 2019
Oct 3, 2019 at 9:01 PM UTC
Arrhythmia
the push and pull, the dissonance,
the heavy trawl of weightlessness—
the irony of freedom.
I wonder where souls like ours end up—
on a bookshelf, in the bleeding hearts of poets
or dead, forgotten, wishing we would have loved one wholly instead of many in parceled fragments.
