Mar 2019
Heavens wrought
and oceans blew
a golden glass antique as you
For ages past
and known no end
unspoken to by any wind
Reality
your sculpture bends
my iris drinks forth from a skin
The likes of yours
my only truth
you've turned my black
Into a blue.
and oceans blew
a golden glass antique as you
For ages past
and known no end
unspoken to by any wind
Reality
your sculpture bends
my iris drinks forth from a skin
The likes of yours
my only truth
you've turned my black
Into a blue.
Its not one person this is written for. It's written for the only God I believe in. The God in another person's eyes who desires me and wants me too. They are my religion, and my heaven is in their arms.
