Though the world is hollow
my fingers touch the sky,
and flirt with mighty thorns,
pricked hard with my blood,
and watery seas and their sighs.
Within those other worlds
where a billion tears collide,
faces shimmer with their past,
’til imprinted on the shore,
to becomes this hollow cast.
I think I overlooked him
breathing under garment.
And I dared to flick away that neon boldness,
‘You’re too late for this.’
I think I was,
but, nevertheless, I dove in –
for within us lies a far distant screech.
And who knows what love really is,
and ultimately what is out of reach?
Braced only for the ultimate collision,
I put my foot down.
I say goodbye
holding your hand
desperately searching for raw comfort,
but from clay cold skin and defeated flesh,
words will no longer form, nor
draw me close.
You hold a smile
and it squeezes my heart softly,
with a palpable
sense of who I am and who we were.
I think you have just found a dream
inside of death, and see a vision
higher than we, one rich in vitality
for a journey or a destiny –
and so, I believe, we are not
really saying goodbye.