Wednesday, 3 January 2018

cut open

cut open across our faded facial
metamorphosis we realign ourselves
with the dormant presses of a
lost and found smile; a dream worth
dreaming for.
broken angel wings cover
my eyes and beg my future
for forgiveness . i told you a
story and you blamed me for
crying dry years of dark matter.
i spoke too early and
spirited away too late...


this will be my last poem

so that i remember. because before melted steel, there was hand-made, better, buttered words. we can decide if new spaces beneath me can qui...