There's a storm in my mind it's awaiting
because the harp's hum is abating (softly,
softly; you only hear it now
that it is but a fading vow)
with the years; it seems like the intercept
read a promise that was stolen and couldn't be kept.
You lied, how you laid your lies with truth,
how the truth was lain and slain in lies,
how the trees burgeoned after you were gone
with blossoms like decaying wounds
i remember, I remember your sparkling words
words that unfolded their black wings like birds
and collapsed into the wind current, and unlatched,
and abruptly arose, wings rigid, propelled by your smile,
propelled by the thought that our characters matched,
only to buckle within the next mile.

I felt the premonition. I just couldn't accept
that your eyes were a promise stolen,
(as your conscience became swollen)
and what is stolen can never be kept.