heartbreak sounds like a love-song
and if I strung it to a harpsichord,
it would be dedicated on radios
to new sweethearts on Valentine's
before the roses could be shared,
as if the cold lacquer of my words
was polishing delicate musicboxes
made of ancient oakwood forests
where the sun never stops shining,
My darkness accosts these hearts
but they hold hands and await dawn,
while I distribute a litany of sunsets
with ink borrowed from long nights.
Image Source: Phoenix Decor
No comments:
Post a Comment