May 8, 2017

The last time silence glistened
Nothing was still
Iron fish tangled in her hair
Matching tendrils slithering over her tongue
Summer flew low
My eyes crawled over the house walls
Green razors executing this
Dialect of sun and earth
My roots dead
She is a stream across the half-mortal
A stubborn struggle
Gone further away from any possible light
Thoughts in open ripples
Quite close to the abandoned wakefulness
I knew a world ago
Eager pictures moving under my eyelids
Now, and in vain

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