Sunday, July 27
Remnants of Paradise
Hardened words may make it easier to step,
Though I'd much rather whisper to the world asleep.
Put your heavy head in my hands and rest.
My beaten breast inward sinks and stays there crushed & still,
Until you take your next breath.
Mine continues to sound of you,
Only stopping to think.
Once, twice, a thousand,
Still only of you.
Can you hear it as the remnants on this side of paradise
Blow by my reddened cheeks?
Can you hear the struggle of your quaint & lifeless
Memories overtaking me?
It was me who once slept and you who did not.
But now it is you who sleep and I who just dream.
It is I who does not.
Our deepest, most protected thoughts,
Are the ones which wake us,
Both asleep & not.
It is the slithering syncopations of your soul
That pace & quicken the beat of my heart.
Though I have sinned against you,
So too have you against me.
And thus we waste like fools in the static,
Interchangeably.
Though I'd much rather whisper to the world asleep.
Put your heavy head in my hands and rest.
My beaten breast inward sinks and stays there crushed & still,
Until you take your next breath.
Mine continues to sound of you,
Only stopping to think.
Once, twice, a thousand,
Still only of you.
Can you hear it as the remnants on this side of paradise
Blow by my reddened cheeks?
Can you hear the struggle of your quaint & lifeless
Memories overtaking me?
It was me who once slept and you who did not.
But now it is you who sleep and I who just dream.
It is I who does not.
Our deepest, most protected thoughts,
Are the ones which wake us,
Both asleep & not.
It is the slithering syncopations of your soul
That pace & quicken the beat of my heart.
Though I have sinned against you,
So too have you against me.
And thus we waste like fools in the static,
Interchangeably.
Labels: On Unspoken Love
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