Wednesday, August 28, 2013

The Eater and the Haunted



I lift her to the sky to let her fall
as blistered, beaten pasts become undone.
I make a million moments worth her awe
and I know how to make her makeup run.

I kiss her slow and melt her in my hand
while whispers glow in pauses of the sun.
I solve with sweat the passions left unplanned
and I know how to make her makeup run.

I belt a ballad smeared by bitter ryes
of every sorrow lacked in sin and fun.
My demons make a mess beneath her eyes
and I know how to make her makeup run.

So this will end less definite than death
as endless love for all we can't forget.

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