Brushed with the fleeting feathers of your wings I bleed.
Abandoned, my savior,
on your flight to spare another.
The stain of my clotless tear, ripe,
shimmer for wind-chapped canyons.
Retreat to swallow the
careless or the careful,
with faultful preconditions of my faux callous design.
Your voice, a glamourous ghost
whispering hideous truths
as I follow the moon over the mountains,
releasing fireflies in your wake.
In case you're wondering...
- Christina
- A polite smile, maybe a nod of the head, or a "How're you doing?" will be given when we cross paths; something as trivial as "Hello" reminds me not to subscribe to Me vs. The World. My life's ambition is to feel intellectually and spiritually fulfilled, to be like a sponge and soak in what this earth has to offer.
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