It happens without fail, everytime, ruthless and unable to cross that barrier. My heart on a tiny saucer, waiting for her to eat it as my time is very limited on this place. Yet they all refuse the offering, time and time again, left alone, standing under the bruised moon, separated from all the stars, dispersed amongst the flailing winds. I feel like a speck of pollen fallen to the infertile ground, smashed into the Earth by careless by-standard-passers by. Ruined.
Clouded skies, no longer clear to me, my heart told me before it ever came, that fragile ache. So I smoke the smog of ages unknown only to chance that degradation which has lost all beauty, to enjoy my life as I see fit. My honest breath is so often taken as the song of the blues, my actions and motions as timid lack of aggression, but I know not how to force regret upon others. Her voice sends a certain thrill but know the reach only goes so far to penetrate a place I'd once resided, and can no longer call that place home. Yet I know I'm not the only one, and that makes me feel more lonely than ever.
Each spanning a different path, criss-crossing along infinity. Though there is definitely something about us, and I'll always remember that last time our lips met, outside, by that gate, my swollen face and eyes colored like the pinot grapes of Napa.
I navigate the endless night seas by your star-bright beacon,
compass to my directionless voyage
across the crashing waves of society's
storm.
Dehydrated essence, shipwrecked,
morning-star magnetism so complex,
the eyes of hope spring forth geysers,
rush towards the sun.
And finally, clarity.
I'm here. You're here. We've always been here.
Together.
