how fragile has’t thou yet become
to dust
doth dew surrender
so poignant
at my finger’s tip
find we
this toll of time’s enrapt
the end of days
wast nigh to wend
whence winter aged
again, anew
dissolved
into some drifter’s daydream
spent with none
but thee
here
still i
forever falling
far away
from erstwhile truths
gentle
in thy weakest waking
eyes awash with druse
endless angles
intercepting rays
what ways
wisdom did seldom know
these woes have since awoken
to the wisted water’s
faulted tide
where hides the filament
of fools
for this
am i
to brandish bonds
submitted
by thy love’s abide



Reblogged this on and commented:
Max Meunier
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Great writing. ⚘💕
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