TOASTED EYES, CRISPY FRIGHT

In my past life

An airborne sparrow

You would have me be

Though flight is everything

Cruel time has denied me,

 

Murky gaze drowning out the thrum of life

As dead eyes

Wander

To each passing face

Coating broken wings in the ashen hope

Falling from floating

Beauty’s form,

 

That is what she is

The hidden life form

That has claimed me;

Tattooed flowers setting roots

In the sharp jut of her bones,

 

When breathless lure

Trapped me in her gaze

Your hand proved too heavy

That is why you felt me drop the weight of the

Morbid comfort

Of our plateau;

So the magnetising stranger

You saw me trap in my bed

Could declare me healing

And not yet

Dead.

 

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