eight bells

I wrote this whilst sitting alone in a busy shopping centre on the evening of Valentine’s Day.

written on 14th February 2014

earth circles,
globe triangles,
rice paper rolls on a fake mosaic table..
floating remedies,
simple goodbyes,
and the silence before a night disappeared.
a cold drink,
an icy path,
a former lover with the mark of a warrior on his shoulder.
fairest is fairest,
the throne seats just one,
and in all ambience that betrays the flood of sound I shall falter —
a glass eye,
an impossible stare,
and a lonely, peaceful gifted box that holds a teddy bear;
a gunshot fired,
no stone unturned,
the bitter murmur of the last words from one’s lost sojourn;
a gentle grace,
yet peaceful yearn,
in all stars that glitter alongside the moon and let the blue sun burn;
your sharp embrace,
some silver droplets,
the sky beyond the island evokes the only strength to stop us;
inside your faith,
beyond disgrace,
for every fraction between sea and space that flies far beyond, erased,
I only shatter,
between the realms
that hover under boundless heavens more than I can tell,
and only there,
I know I’ll try
to hold the echoes back under my ribs and unfasten every cry
and only while,
only while
I echo back and forth with my ribs just shy,
and pain will hasten,
pain will hasten
every moment flying in my heart
and I will lose,
I will forget,
but only become the way to start and ending with regret.

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