there, touched on the glass we slice open our hearts, not with the callous like finger tips but with the delicacy of the skin hidden, v-ed between our heart beats
how many glancing blows can we hold inside our eyes’ memories?
you’re just a syphon giving away kisses through a sieve & holding angel wings in the corners of your smile, what luxury this is, to touch such sweet heavenly murmurings with the tongue of your words — how hush this is
watching the light dance across the open cold sky, blackness that is deeper than all the blacks I’ve seen before, colour colder than I’ve felt inside my inner bones, yet, it is lovely
not lovely like the sun, or the blue sky, or the rushing sea, but lovely like a hurt can be —
snow settles exactly where the branch is thickest, where the wind can hold no more, something must be let go, something must be buried, something must be lost, something must glow, a hundred thousand sparkles cannot even begin to describe what rest on the edges of snow in the moonlight —ask me what I know of heaven on earth, tucked in those little places, silent & still
how lovely is the lonely of knowing beauty despite this blood bath of pain, hot & stoked & consuming, everything is burning
I could reminisce on this ruination, another x or more aptly, another stroke on the wall, counting off the torture that is, but what point is there anymore to this?
all I would hear is gunfire, & death, & hear the rhetoric & lies breathed with every breath —I’m a courtyard of murmurings of memories of what agony there is here, year after year
…and so, let me stop myself from recalling what is best left forgotten. Let me stop. Inside this silent night. Inside this darkness. Inside this sparkling cold. Beneath these lights. Where the snow has settled, just right. Where I watch Venus dancing, spinning in all her light —
how I hold this beauty, intense upon my throat just for its warmth, just to feel the sensation of life still zooming fast through my veins, love in all its strange horror lovely —
there is ruination beyond this place, here in this moment where I lay, clutching the future; letting go yesterday’s decay