***I wander ... empty, and alone. And she ... continues to fly, unaffected by suffering she has caused.***
The rat
from the sewers of trashed love,
sighing at the sunlight
choked, on golden memories;
wiping away the sandstorms in his eyes.
And in singing clouds,
her voice a harmonic duplicate
dressed in diamond lips,
her kisses starting fires,
a bird. (Or angel ...)
Her glass feathers fell
and showed a myriad of love
each reflecting her precious stormy eyes;
and I, cried sand
to fill my veins with blood again
oh how I could taste the dry hate fade from my tongue.
But flowers of tainted ravens
bloomed upon her golden skin
and ghosts teased, and pleased
all and more
of felicity that now claws at her back.
No longer sharing the same heart,
I die,
a rat, (that who is always me)
poisoned,
and she flies free ...
a bird, and all love washes through streams of decay;
(after the rain)
just like my dead, rat, heart.
