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Of Poets’ Eyes & Mechanical Hearts MAG
A breeze, a breeze,
the sweet wind of winter whispers lovesick fools in my ear
a sighing song of crystal butterflies that i pinned in your hair
after we fell down dizzy from dancing in the fog.
The buzz of my mechanical heart
is beating away at your concrete walls and brick by brick
I tear you apart
so that ice sharp love can pierce your soul.
Our laughter a husky smoke-stained melody,
we pop soda cans
and toast them like ambrosia.
the cliff we watch from withered with tattoo love and hate.
But your poets' eyes are fixed on me and my sutured scars
throb with hope because your eyes are
freedom life hope
they whisper behind frozen shadows the secrets of life (of death?) I sometimes wonder
where you got those bruises on your arms
but i don't ask 'cause
my bruises are pretty fresh too … (did i tell you that I love you?)
So in my purple-leather princess trenchcoat and ratty jeans my sister wore
I sit and watch the sunset with you, your scarlet hair tickling my hands
as you rest your head on my thigh.
The patchwork quilt of black and silver and garish blue is tucked around your curled form
to keep off the winter's laughter as we soak in heat from our concrete bed.
And I sing us folk songs from countries we've never been to with you humming abstract chords to keep the roar of highway traffic at bay.
as dreams and salt-scoured breaths take our souls to flight to adventures
with our well-loved monsters and closet-skeletons as our guide
while we wander away into the peace of oblivion.
(Did i tell you that i Love You?)