I hang from your words like they’re gallows,
dripping, running, hardening like melting tallow,
I escape your mouth, only to fall into your eyes,
spurned twice, but still I want you thrice,
you burn, and I am a child who cannot learn,
mark me a fool with the nails in your mouth,
plough furrows into my back, till my land,
still my words, breathe my stale lungs,
feel my rough hands on your mountain roads,
my feet on yours, barely treading water.
I would steal the wings from the birds, the fins
from the fish and the limbs from the beasts,
rip the stars from the sky and the trees from the soil,
dry the sky for your parasol, and I would gladly
burn the entire world for just a little light to see you by.
As seen on Apostatements
(apostating.wordpress.com)
