Wasted words wet tongue, crash against the inner folds of lips;
the dark crevices succumbing to the twisted sweet taste of neglect and past mistakes
tumbling in my mind like a dancer falling from Heavenly Grace.
Did it hurt on your fall from the sky, asked with a smile.
The tip of a blade scratching into the flesh,
staining, bleeding, black.
Flying fallen into your post bin of rubbish.
After the moment ends and the silence has blackened the ears of the living;
After the creation of eternity from the multitude of moments locking into place;
After the forever after ends and all that remains is a period to mark the spot
of where young dreams used to lie tight in bed at night.
Never know after the after more,
to deserted cafes and revolution dreams.
To a time where time felt fine and where you knew what I meant.
To a time where I wasn’t afraid of what I dreamt.
Back to a place where I was what I knew
and back to a place where life seemed true.
