Nothing else matters
Now , as I rest my head
On your every word
Tomorrow seems not so deadly
However
Internally every organ is misplaced
Names are misspelled
Gunsmoke rise from our every wish
Eclipses in thousands can not make me feel you less
Less than I feel my own blood
So what , if the world has come to an end and
Events of disaster continues to happen and
Monsoons are made from our embraces
And storms are formed from our kisses and
Tears burn river dikes deep
This can not make me feel you less
Even as ground gives away under the weight of our faith and
Rivers of magma melts our bones because
Soon my love , you say , soon there will be a place for us
Poetry by Emelén
Read 1754 times
Written on 2006-10-08 at 13:04
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