/from the vault | “exile”/
though it haunts your days
dream a little dream of me
a nice little gift
ties up nicely
in a dying bow
though once again i grieved
for the never
warm summer wormhole, they called it
the angels rotted my heart cold years ago
though i shall run
i’ll see you later on the field
before the day folds itself,
collapsed
i will be back at dusk
a talk or none
a movie that burnt
a smoke lips to lips
a song that hurt
a hug that stained
though the world is ending
it falls nicely
the sun beams down
and wept for the never
gorgeous dawns come and go
But they do come
(not to be dramatic)
i will see you again in the next life
and the one after
and so it goes
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