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Memory dreams death (the dreams that should not be)

Contributed by iodinelove on Thursday, 5th January 2006 @ 07:49:02 PM in AEST
Topic: Grief

In a bare room in a bleak December day, I am curdled vomiting my love.
A serenity called endlessness diverts my trembling tongue, calls glory short lived, shambles aimlessly about, and trusts my fingers to play her threads of hair.
It is only a memory, and memory dreams death.

What is there to say?
What word, poignant, said word made flesh, desires memory over flesh?
Can I say love, and to your hearts be sought, and taken captive by?
Can I say, her hands upon my sick and weary breast considers me, the life in me and death in me that is a drowning sea upon her cold dead lips, without the fear of no repose from the drink of deep, deep dreams that damn me to unrest?
Can I again say love, and fear no trepidation from the shadows of my heart?

To my life's own love, and to loves that fall behind: I am dried desires dying dreams; let all follow the dreams that should not be.

Copyright © iodinelove ... [ 2006-01-05 19:49:02]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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