nathanael.ink

Reassemble the pieces…
we had a memory of the morning
talked of cabin homes and mountain sides
we wore the skin of love
all our faces wore it too

undying, unending, unadulterated,
without measure and without condition
worded right off our tongues..

but now how can I bury the planets?
can the dead now bury the dead?

I wish the art could eat up the bones..

she now is a body of lies
stitched up with contempt
built up in my blood
given eyes again to see for herself
the ogre of I
whose hands slaved to save
the girl who would run at the sight of my head undone and shaky fingertips
which slaved to stitch up the both of us

..now in her health, she has gained the mind to see the disaster of me..