Porcelain kisses
Trampling higher Than
Heroes before tin towers
Melted;
Rows of pausing belated
Our true eye color.
Tangled sleep fell
Apart as the Spartan between
Us arose in matte Memories.
Immortal window Seals together
The rose tide of singing apart
Whales. We spoke in laughter
And the rendering of blue
Haze greyed our mistakes.
I thought he was a poet and
Marked each chapter with
Crying eyes; Instead he ended
It with poised breathtaking
And erected arms. When we
Conspire again the wind
Becomes Moment. Sleepy
Martyrs benign with
Summer kisses; solitude
Against this enigma of this
Fresh song. Long breathes
Of beating heroines will take
Us further into Nirvana.
Fascist pride wordless
Cobblestones lost and
Found make believe;
A bookstore in the sky.
Photo by my one and only; stillrainphotography
