Monday, 21 January 2013

Edgar Allan Poe


Pry open our
Homes; there you will
Fine my torn heartbeats
Wrapped up in your
Proposal’s library.
Raging against your
Severed mechanics;
My skies are emptying
Out their imbalances.
But you are my beautiful
End. An end to and end
That I love. You are my
Eclipsed poem.

grieving greif

bountiful snow with stagnant silver wings and baby steps leaning us forward. i have been in this attic before and the leaks were distancing ...