Neither protected nor persecuted,
When love dies young—when we execute it—
Father, to change the subject; dusk eyes plunge
When what lies once won me parachute with
You to the pavement.
We leave here indebted to bereavement;
Its fabricated concealment needed
To reel in each tear we invested in
Cruel feelings worn devoutly ’round the
Neck we believed in.
Severed into islands ’cross oceans strewn,
Each tear torn from your lost eyes sewn opened
Sends to mine far more jewels than I’d been
hoping for; little sapphire storms broken
From your bar’s prism.
Lush, lulled to stutter, pour now the stupor.
It’s only a mistake if we open
The door and we find each other’s nothing
More than a legend in his own closed mind.
Tell me it isn’t.