Once upon a time…

Next to you
sunlight echoes
its last breath
forfeiting to touch
our fingers.
What comes next
is not lost.
This fantasy
between us
sits outside
your hardwood door
on my granite floor
lying in the rummage
of papers and voices.
The high notes
and low tides
of our time ran out
like your balding
heart. Maybe 
my children will have 
mental imbalances as well
I can feel it
trickling in like wearing
black stockings 
 
and padded shackles.
Theres no simpler way
to throw caution
against the wall
and strangle it
to escape the fantasy.
Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s