Slightly does the wind *******,
And the smoke off the sky,
Its face... Ah, the red across the blue of the night.
The blinding performance of the fakers,
Gives purple hope to the papers,
That I will drink from the fountain.
Please, God, let me step carefully,
I can't forgive myself.
None of it is enough,
And the pictures are shredded up into the dust.
How tiny is the tear dancer,
I can't make it pause with these weak gestures.
Let it come through,
But slowly... Please, not fast.
Fading words in my head
Love... All that is owned.
Love... Please, quiet, let it be...
Love... Only... So much...
Yes, so much.