Tears from the mystical sky seeped in through my shoulder— as I let its fervor tears dampen my lowly soul; he said, “hear me out”
The way it moves around sailing toward to broaden mysterious mists—the plastic clouds covering most of the gleam of the sun and the way he murmurs into my ears— I can never get out again.
While strange stares pierced through my core—a menacing way of forcing unraveling fragile pieces of my silent port, and there I let a foreign one travel his way through— sailing beneath my springs.
On this day of August's chilly afternoon— while the tears of the mystical sky tumbles through my shoulder—dripping my cold dry bones.