echoes of inflicted surrender.

Yes darling,
It's hard to hold every fall and fly all at once, with a
fist shattered through a half choked sky
and a smile ridden from ear to ear.
Tell me, How was a girl to know the difference between
spilt light stretched straight till morning
and and the shudder of a grave stone in an earthquake
the size of Moscow?
To be here
and there
and everywhere sounds lonely enough to render me
un-wanting,
with words whittled longingly to a point in which i can't
say your name without smiling.
Till your laughter is a stranger shooting a gun through
a room of silence still as ice.
Creaking forward till moonlight but i pull the curtain down,
Eyes watching peonies swallow a shimmer beckoning forward
to surrender, and the autumn leaves wrinkled with the touch of your hand.

And you laugh "Betcha none of those angels can fix this." you say

And i buckled, stone knees pulling the ground to it's skin
with my soul a drowning effigy washed with cold.

And i continue slow dancing with you.