This will be a song
Written slowly with red
On parchment scroll
In an ancient language
For a foreign instrument
By the blind forced to see
In the dark
This will resonate
From the hammer, anvil and stirrup
To the prefrontal cortex
Ending with the heart
For some
And for others
Those fleeted fifty-two bones
Mock the freeze
Write of it
Photograph it often
For when its sharp refreshment fades away
Your comfort from the warm, high ground
Your concern kept at bay
Will taste of only salt
And tears
And grey
Yes and I did not sleep warm last night
While each sentence you speak thinks now it holds leverage with my sleepy senses
In fact it holds none
My muddled thoughts aren’t muddled at all
They are determined
To not be
Taken
Advantage
Of
So I can clearly tell this
I love who I see
A weakness of mine I’d not trade as a weaker one would
Though I marvel at the back
And forth
I don’t tire
It is why you still stand
The shadows of somebody
Who must have cast them
And the spell I am under
Are all, I see
Doomed to dance and die
As my did my flowers
From Winter in May
Much too much goodness
More promise and more substance
Than spine to withstand
The promise echoed
Will not be denied
You will not see these eyes again
One heart and one line
Is all that will rise
I cannot confuse who I am
I was planning to walk quiet with you
And look out
From someplace valuable
There was no plan to be
Us
And them
It was to be
No souls lost
Because we walked
I need you to leave me
I need to feel the dust
The distance
Willfully, mecifully placed
Between your spinning heel
And my most witless heart
As I, with abandon
Am unable to abandon
You
To save me
He left
Me
Alone
To struggle then break free
To wail before the calm did come
To despair until all that was left is hope
To see my own cowering shadow rise up
To be dust, dust again, then be formed
To learn I knew nothing
He never left me alone
no. i refuse it.
the empty analytics.
but I covet it.
LisaRosier.com 