Death comes, not in the sudden felling of your tree of life.
That monumental crash in the wooded realm of existence.
Or in an avalanche of silent demise,
Crashing into white off a precipice that follows a climb.
Death never leaves a new life.
It breathes silently on your skin.
Like a misty voice, cold and condensed.
Dew dropping its pain along the way.
Watching as your petals of life fall.
A new one each day.
Seasons of a wandering heart
With your tangerine smile, which flavours the city.
Casting a sunburst across my eyes.
I’ll find you, where I know you’ll be.
Down by the water’s edge.
Inside my soul.
Scooping up petals and bits of memories that others left behind.
You tape them to your chest.
Quilt them to the inside of your skin.
That citrus disposition.
Sharpe and bright, welcoming me in.
You peel away the days, opening up to happiness.
Finding me at home, with your tangerine touch.
And smelling like summer.
When the universe rests, and slumbers in my mind.
And all around me is still.
I take this chance to apologise.
For who I have become. For who I wanted to be.
An apology for me.
Within these cracks and slithers of my soul.
That remain unfettered to moral decay.
I brush the hurt away.
And send myself flowers.
Hoping to turn over those leaves, and find you there.
If this is the last and the final time.
Then button my eyes and draw the line.
And keep me hidden beneath the ground.
Where earthly secrets and worms are found.
For if you are not the beat of my heart.
Then into death my journey must start.
And silence my mind as it heaves to you.
Kill this love which you’ve broke in two.
A soured state, a love now broken.
Hearts that shatter in words unspoken.
This picture fades, the joy demolished.
A hovering shadow of malice and gloom.
Bringing me the flowers once promised.
For underneath these bruises do bloom.
Pieces float in the blood.
A crimson river, drawing up to space.
Flowers smashed into oblivion.
Only to remain. As particles of dust.
Floating inside you.
Dusting your eyelids and tainting your tongue.
Lilies and lilacs lifting into a dream.
Lifting in the pulse and throb of the heart.
Blooming in particles while they orbit your organ.
That heaves and struggles to understand.
The demise of such beauty.
How to topple the king which wears the crown so royally.
Moments and magnesium fill the place of diamonds and gems.
Wrapped in much Fools gold.
And the crown heaves down, rubbing red and raw.
A life long lived with much regret.
How we turn the heels and fled.
To learn a life in which to lead, we watch the others.
Little eyes through holes in fences.
A voyeuristic violation, into their little galaxies.
That swirl and sway like the black in the white.
Changing from dismay, into delight.
And you take this horse by the reigns, and lead me through the forest.
Through the clearing of my ill begotten ways.
Out of the woods, out of the storm.
Peppering poppies that fill my lungs with such poisonous perspective.
And show me.
That I had been asleep all this time.
Catch those condemnations on the rim of your glass.
Mix in amber.
Preserve and observe this staging saga.
Oh my life in Technicolor.
Shining like the diamonds above your eyes.
As you cover all you see in flowers.
A bed. A tomb.
A road for my departure.