Stars move fast when made of water,
Splashing far into the sky
And lighting up whatever they'd like.
I hold my umbrella tight,
A final stand against a falling sky,
Falling sideways, howling wild.
I stumbled on heaven's porch
And felt a kid again.
But one knee rested on the tile
As it was taken once more,
Tugged towards the floor
But smirking drunk sincerity,
A hand over the surface
Keeping a steady pressure.
Her hands were made of ice
And it felt in frigid pleasure.
No comments:
Post a Comment