Montag, 9. Februar 2015

so hideous, my love... : handprints on glass.


Brushed through whispers hallowed meaning; a dream lies ill. Pleading eyes precede the sight of your sleeping gaze. I feel the light pierce the skin of it's innocence. Regret but a spark that is not to be said. The shards of a stained mirror held the years I once clutched so tightly; two hands mired in unspoken prayers. Return this moment. Mass of resentment. Light holds this autumn. Dusk breathes orchid scent. Fading light fills these lungs at last...
A whisper rests in tangled hair; unraveling. The sky reflects shattered daydreams on scattered leaves. Empty handed wishes wilt on chrysanthemums. Promises drowned in silence, unmoved by time. The shards of a stained mirror held the years I once clutched so tightly; two hands mired in unspoken prayers. Return this moment. Mass of resentment. Light holds this autumn. Dusk breathes orchid scent. Fading light fills these lungs at last...

Night holds us still.
Time, this frozen well, bleeds my writhing wrist of precious memories. Voices ring and wilt through silent halls entangled in fantasy. These fragments chase the wound; I tear the dread from hands impure.
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