The broken take refuge in soft lips. Where astrology is no more precognitive than absorbing the heavens at night. Where the sun dyes your skin and heals your wounds. Where everything falls together and the past is but a stain
Circles, but you needed squares. Palms up in divine conception, you went palms down on lust. Bitter ashes for the earth, an indian painting flower in blush//We felt eternal, before your infinite tattoo. The skin against my hands runs black in beauty, you dry for black residue. Salty tears for the water, a lick of scotch underneath the moon//We searched for feathers, shared a single dance in flight. Lit up all full of eyes, you took the silence too. Sweet smoke to the air, burnt sage in healing grays//We’re vapors of the future, the stars all lead to you. Painted lovely every dream, I caught your smile before we met. Cinders for the fire, wounded wood carved to creation.
Getting the last word is; you can never take back the last thing you ever said