Every tear jerk moment with well pronounced words from some unheard poet.
Milky night skies hurdling burnt out candles.
The calgary has arrived to save your thin lips from flaking down to the icy grass,
to make sure every part of you is a cure
or some blesing not worthy for damaged ground.
I found God’s work,
with still frames of our masterpiece.
Though, angels do not weep.
Questioning darling princess’s truth and wishful thinking regrets.
I hear the innerthoughts whisper.
For the sky may collapse on her bush.
Her hair will be lost and my mouth will become dry.
So, here is the bit of pain I will keep.
For all my dying sleep, the sorrow of swallowed dreams will drop heaven to my feet.
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