spare me dreams that possess
minutes, i do not want to
be left the way i want to be
because i only wanted you
and to live out a dream
out of a weaver's hands,
drawing circles, tracing panic
like it is your blood rushing
back to the edge of one
unyielding hunger and happenstance
until this heart surrenders
to your revolution and your faith,
to your sunlight and water,
to your desire and delirium.
No comments:
Post a Comment