Tuesday, August 3, 2010

There Were Maybe Ten Or Twelve

"Once there was a haunted loop of your deep, fallen tears. A forehead resting on a record shelf amid moving boxes stacked. I'm still waiting for the right words, make of that what you will."

Fill me up, fill me up, I want for nothing more. I could be lost in you- if you would let me. I wait at the shore to see what will come on that languid horizon line. The wind as it whispers past my ear is calming to all my fears- you know, the ones that started with you.

1 comment:

Love said...

Then come with me upon this land. Leave those fears at the bottom of the ocean, for this frontier has none of them. Only you and I upon this island, leaving behind the land of man and mal intent.