I inhaled the moon
when stars fell from shores;
before that,
I tasted carmine clouds--
I didn't meander beams of mistrust,
I wanted to sing like louis armstrong.
I wanted your soul to sway
and I wanted life to loiter
in manuscript's muse,
where only melancholy wept
alone.
Is this how
true happiness harms? I deserve
a standing ovation for my observations--
I stood within scent of evening's breeze,
as everything remained so still;
if your soul refused to sway
then lullabies would hang unsung.
If you loved me,
wouldn't you wish to hear?
I feel now
like I felt when dawn
revealed day. I cried well
within sky's sighs.
I timidly tried to sing such sweetness.
I used to hum hurt
through the shaded gaze of want;
last night
I heard sobs beneath bosom's beat,
as a halo of heat soothed
sorrow's shouts.
With one sight, I am surviving;
the other seeks solace
within a palmful of poured promises.
Sky's song doesn't save the heart.
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