what dreadful hand
what dreadful foot
which thou holds such beauty
that leave one to blame herself to look upon
To not be good enough to hold such things
such wonderful things that disappear before thine eyes
A song from the lips of high things
what a terrible and beautiful sight is he
Struggling on the inside of this translucent cage
all but water to drink from his hands
what a dreadful head is his
that hold such vivid imaginations and hope
Stuck in a form that both patronizes and adores
no, not a creature but a man of personality
that bleeds through and stains the finest silk
with a quality no one can match
To call him a creature would be wrong
though so many words seem to describe as such
for something so fare on foot, in heart
a man who seeks salvation for all the world
The eyes... the lips, something of sorrow
what love could tame the soul if one could borrow?
the eyes made of other worldly seas
sought to bring this world to its knees
So many stars in his world
painted blue, grey, and green, sometimes colors of the rainbow
to cut down the thought once made
Drawing moonlight shadow charades
What dreadful hand
what dreadful foot
which built up a world of ink
that leaks into his life like my words do mine
To smear the ink would be to admit defeat
the story would ride on without an ending
spoken through fingertips an lost of words
the air will become scrolls
His kiss abides me with every tear
sewn lips to create one breath for two
one heart beat in order to release the tension
one body that separates not for any night
To barely hang on to the rafters in sound
ready to break in and steal something sacred
and place it back the pieces as if they'd never been broken
do they still fit?
To come back, and ask again
to see that sky before dawn in those beautiful eyes
within those hearts and that breath
struck by lack of time and privacy
What lovely hand
what lovely foot
that stead fast towards me in open arms
to meet my hand with a ring and a kiss...
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