. The faucet is left open
seconds of water left running
while we sleep
the winds all tap on the window
they lay themselves out along the glass
to cover her ugly nakedness
while we sleep
smoke and frost look too alike
so why does one stay while the other
simply flies
where do you run
to the guillotine?
you’ve no one to execute
though you are the queen
you bury your hands into the horizon
between pain and bliss
the ladder is falling
it fits in your wrist
Dec 31, 2018
Dec 31, 2018 at 5:43 AM UTC
. The faucet is left open
seconds of water left running
while we sleep
the winds all tap on the window
they lay themselves out along the glass
to cover her ugly nakedness
while we sleep
smoke and frost look too alike
so why does one stay while the other
simply flies
where do you run
to the guillotine?
you’ve no one to execute
though you are the queen
you bury your hands into the horizon
between pain and bliss
the ladder is falling
it fits in your wrist
the second poem of the first installment of short spontaneously written strings of words. happy new year xo.
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