The heart stares behind glasses,
Mascara runs off all its lashes.
It’s with the eyes it clashes over who can see.
The whole body’s at at war,
No limb knows the other anymore.
They’d all flee for unnamed islands,
Were it not for the peace of the skin.
Walking toward with all this disconcert,
My blood, my stomach, it grows, it worsens.
I temper it like an angry sea held by a beach.
I take you in to rest your weary feet.
And I forgive the whole damn thing.
At a last meal for lovers,
I gave you poems I couldn’t see in others.
You folded them like a rabbit’s foot to carry for luck.
But that’s all it was, a strange limb you could live without,
You could barely give a fuck.
All’s now been buried,
By years of man-made memories.
It still stirs alive with a breeze to carry.
Sometimes I feel weighted by that dead,
But somehow it still makes me feel lucky.