small bodies are
covered by leaves,
and the pain falls down mountains.
even before a quiet
can be a starting,
spoons and diamond
fuse into bone, seas
of marrow bursting.
the sky is swallowed
by a river
of burning.
we don’t know if
there can ever be
love. too
soon and close
for grief, but terror
beats loudly in the
night and blood is
wild on all the
trees, on all the houses.
whiskey, paint, radiohead, and snow.
mm, yeah.
it’s december.
the flowers on your stockings,
wilting away in the midnight.
the book you are reading,
is one man’s opinion of moonlight;
your skin is so white,
you’d like maybe to go to bed soon.
just closing your eyes,
if you're to rise up before noon.
wilting away in the midnight.
the book you are reading,
is one man’s opinion of moonlight;
your skin is so white,
you’d like maybe to go to bed soon.
just closing your eyes,
if you're to rise up before noon.
themed by 1000scientists & lovememore
