the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Monday, June 2, 2014


And as the words met with shoulders and fingers to touch,
A meaningless movement was moving too much
With none to gain, and turned to Lightness
Until the soft burn of politeness took pins to a cushion,
And conceded to see what would bleed through the paper.
Stained with her name was what in silence never tore,
But simply fell apart and had started just the same.
So tell me again, just tell me again
How it stuck to her skin, but would never append
Like the last note drawn out on a long slanted mirror.
I had cast my reflections to a radiating sea seeming clearer
And the condensate was diluted, but still potent and purer:
Sometimes we shout at walls hoping these echoes would stay,
But sometimes a concert in the rain is just a concert in the rain.

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