Sundial across water to the dark hills
seeking solace in solstice rhymes
and sunken Heavens beneath my feet
Hope slowly swims as dementia moving softly upstream
promenade lights enfold into lighthouse wombs,
not everything born has to shine
Dark clouds hang as an
executioner’s smile across harbour lips,
twilight tongues lick paint from the sky
It’s a long walk home when
rain-arrows puncture the lungs,
tyres slant water into gutters
at angles which lose sight of perspective
Become midnight with me
turn the moon inside-out
so tides come and go on their own free will
Pour petrol on our limbs pyre,
push the bed beside book shelves
sprawl Leonora Carrington inside
molotov cocktail margins,
strike the last match from the box
Burn, darling, burn
let flames seduce each sunset
and beyond all this,
always save the last match for me
hello dearest Ghost this is a feeling work of art❤
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tDPpex1wvOc&list=RDtDPpex1wvOc&start_radio=1
Thank you Crim. The words are over 2 decades old and they are as distant as my feelings for her. It’s important to not get shackled to the past, otherwise they define and cause misery. I moving to foreign lands, so my stay on this site will be brief.