12 October, 2014

Pick the Window?

Pick the Window?

Why must we dance upon shards so often?
Would you have the years be all for naught?
The weather of your face, so unpredictable. 
All I can do, let the clouds roll over and past. 
There is nothing beyond this, my tiny window. 
There are fleeting few minds that touch mine. 
How can it be easy, blinding your eyes to me?
You'll not have to raise a hand to leave marks. 

Pound for pound, the air pressure drops off,
I cannot catch my breath, or stop the rains. 
You claimed, though claims now falsely, I...
Am barely here, never be your centre again. 
I've taken to back seats in my reality, empty. 
No truth in the vocabulary for the likes of me?
When I'm hurting you, now lends your anger,
And when slowly dying, meets to indifference. 

Is this the eternity our souls will be sharing?
To compliment a clock rather than ourselves?
Never to see a day with you, or night with me. 
What sharing of this continuum to be tainted?
The cost of all we've built billed to weight me. 
Can barely see any longer, the grey is so cold. 
The window mocks my savage anguish, and I
Have no recourse to the obstacle course now. 

I know the shape of my own grave, my love. 
And my tombstone will bare you to its centre. 
So many other faces to rim the edges, but lo,
You were always the centre for mine.  Without
You, I'd have melded into the chaos long ago. 
Even as it crawls o'er my flesh, I think of you. 
This beauty is fleeting, but once held magics
of a world, so I slip away on thoughts of you. 


No comments: