i've always had a peculiar affair with history
history is a woman draped in red silk
with ***** eyes and sharpened claws
carefully picking out the hearts to break
and stories to keep
one day i'll arrive in her velvet palms
until then i am but another spectator
aligning myself with what has come to pass
i felt so deeply for the lost souls
souls history deemed unworthy to chronicle
i often wonder about the stories of fossils
of what love laid in the bones below me
of the life shared in worn out alleyways
i often remember all the sadness
the war that plagued the world around me
the death of kings the rise of nations
being affiliated with history is one way to come to it
to sympathize with all her victims
to love so much you love even what is done
the fall of rome broke my heart
for if an empire could fall
how much more i
to remember so much even what you never knew
i feared the flood that carried noah
for if all those quiet beings never reached that ark
who was to say i would've as well
i weeped for the library of alexandria
and all the parts of history left astray
for if that much life could burn
i am already ash
i find it hard to let bygones be bygones
when i am forever hanging on history's clavicles
somehow reaching for her and never quite making it
as i am a lost soul ripe and wary of her place
in a muse as big as history's heart