Diacridic He lays While the leaves sit underneath the brilliance of sincerities tree,
and thinking to you were all the things done by.
As it were Discriptless Pages left turned and inkless What's left behind inside the minds of an intertwining summer a conclusion predesignated.
I saw to you, just as I waved hello to goodnight’s moon. As they touched along the surfaces fleeting into the skin A welcomed wound.
And didn’t you know, That the pictures I stole Of every point of you Were etching onto sheets of heaven into the reflections of the mirrors that sit before your bedside.
While it rests with mixed spirits, the roses that I bore
Passing through glowing bodies are the images you started to dream with me while the silences burrow
A judgement left only partially bridged. Melded with the manifestation of adoptions quest
And as the calls ring in secluce, I still feel that this alley is ghostless Lest this vase breathe the life of unwilted flowers
where the flip sides meet on the evenings tides joined by charmed indifferences
in company with the character of an old flame, only tangible with lights which lay ahead.