To eclipse a past
Is to brace a free fall,
You have your toes ready
for the descent,
But your skin has a bolt of lightning
Teasing the tense tissues.
Who shall remember you?
A corpse about to turn to uneven bacon,
You had a heart of fire.
Now it is dilapidated smoked ruin.
Was it worth it?
Love is like a Parisian night,
To which fanciful fools are drawn;
But tower lights, and stars alike,
All fade away at dawn.
Oh what a blessing it is to see you in the daylight,
Blue sky, green grass, and your skin, it glows,
I love the hot days where we stare the warmth, in our eyes.
I love the cool nights , where before we fall onto the beds, hoping to travel into the caressed dreamland
Ends decipher themselves,
As we trace the origins,
of us coming close,
and forgetting to waltz back
Into this slippery reality
There is not
A single soul among these trees
And I love to decipher your voice
But the silence of yours is what
Keeps me at night.
Don’t know where I’ve gone.
It somewhere between the time,
I knew you
And somewhere between when you were
Interested to know about me.
Fill me up to the brim :
With a dream made up of your voice.
So when the silence finally descends,
at the dead of the night,
I could trace you once again,
like a painter does.
With his bare hands.
Just whisper, when?
Don’t ask why.
Writings to Heaven 