-a crevice in the covers where
the ghost of all lovers still lie,
a room echoing with their desperation to be free,
or to live once more
With the night comes the spirit of the gone,
the long gone and never to return
& the memory of the syntax
that wholly kisses you,
the stain of lips corroding the skin
Dontrell Lovet't
-from [Leitmotif]
No comments:
Post a Comment