i hold my statues face in my hands wiping away her tears i rest my head on her shoulder wishing i was strong enough to hold her as my now aching head leaves her arm i’m made aware i’ve left it warm a small result for all my trying was it truly worth all my crying? the only impact i feel returned much less than i’d felt i earned my statue turned to me and splat my statue fell and crushed me |
i hesitate by the dustbin my hand, expectantly waiting commands to dispose but i ponder, pose, froze surely i would hear the fire sigh ‘trayed lovers he’s seen too many a time but to leave this print to its own content i fear it would strangle me with its contempt had we been on level terms surely what is yours i could return but the price ive already paid and you’d made it clear you’ll not speak again to use a pigeon would eyebrows raise why should i resort to these inbetweenways? curse the poets and romantics i scorn their symbols and schematics why is it they complicate géibheann, piégé, checkmate like a parasite they’ve crawled and now refuse to move deep inside my mind they call everything i do too true can i just be rid of reflections of you? |