Rumours like echoes
That reverberate off ice
Memories sometimes just don't feel like playing nice
They are the textures
Of the fabric that I wear
The holes, a coldness
Through the stitches you made there.
Still the darkening of the day
Leaves long shadows
That persist in the strangest ways
And a chilling wind blows
Until the night swallows up
All the light
I send out words for the living
Thin but bright as if of chrome
Returning echoes are the ones that make it home.
Oct 23, 2022
Oct 23, 2022 at 4:06 PM UTC
Rumours like echoes
That reverberate off ice
Memories sometimes just don't feel like playing nice
They are the textures
Of the fabric that I wear
The holes, a coldness
Through the stitches you made there.
Still the darkening of the day
Leaves long shadows
That persist in the strangest ways
And a chilling wind blows
Until the night swallows up
All the light
I send out words for the living
Thin but bright as if of chrome
Returning echoes are the ones that make it home.
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