when last of losing, the ample fist who does turn down & quietly remind,
i have not left you yet ..
so long as you light the candle
drive in slowly down the bend
body (mind) & the quiver of your impulse
i would not choose it again, and so i no longer miss the madness that marks the love's arrow of its spears that speared us both, facing away from another, but reaching in from a palpitated heart, we only dismember further so as to shy away from the "i am only an egg"
still, your hollow,
will it return us once again (?)
there are too many talks of love, as if not engaging the entity itself .. what would it say? would love call forth again, the fall of an ocean's black, the cave beneath, some shallow and swallowing breathing of a light out of the darkness' hole, where dead things come to die so that what is
dead may never die
time told you so ..
time tells you again
time tells only,
when the resting of your head.