Monday, November 14, 2011

passion

petals wilt and wither
thirsting for rain, the kind
that your eyes delicately
gives away, a requiem

of souls lost in the cadence
of a heartbeat, of a lightning
bold, the leaves of grass
i have bound in your name

the things that remained sacred,
beyond death, beyond doubt,
beyond the listlessness of this heart

clouds that gather fury
for not having you drench
my skies with an impossibility.

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