the whole world smelled of apples
twilight and smoke from a dream
and i did dream, even if
i thought it was hopeless, i did
and i woke up to find
pyramus and thisbe, a play inside a play
the destruction of the parthenon
of personality and pain, because i know
everyone feels the numbness
until the only thing left is our
bones
sliding against each other, alone, and
charcoal wings on the sidewalk
because nobody is watching over and
an imprint; false love
and a bullet for a freckle
which is strange, because i can still feel the wind
3 comments:
i like your last line
There were two times when this sort of rhymed by not really and it was magical. I really like this.
the bullet/freckle thing is my favorite part.
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