for i know that is what you had heard
spat out by cold-blooded oracles
waiting on the demise of our universe.
i will not sing the sweet siren song.
tonight you have no one to sing to,
they say, their hands tearing me
apart from my guitar, my oblivion.
i stare after them with only our love in mind,
and in mind ran to chase after you, following
the scent of jasmine flowers you left behind.
i fell missing the sight of your eyes. in the morning
when i woke, i awakened with the light owed
to a blind man, starving in his darkness.
No comments:
Post a Comment