I got word
a week before the days were set
of your plans to stay

I was given
7 days to tremble

Going over all the words
that that were set out
to cool off through the night
on the sill of pathetic, the edge of space before eternity -
by morning
you knew
most of me

Suddenly this face
wasn’t trusted to hold up
in expression
the greatness we’ve created,
by the years in a slow course
to just the right amount of color
with paint managed from the insides

this sunset of mind
and the glass likeness of moonshine that falls after

If you wanted

Could be

but it’s not something we can blue-screen
backdrop
nor trust to the images of heat moving across the desert

There is a tint,
a hew thats missing from your likeness,
In its intentions to defeat me
I have lost all skill,
And I have a feeling
I have no way of knowing
Till its here

The light of you

09/21/2004

Author's Note: :)

Posted on 09/21/2004
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