the ancient rise
the voices calm
the passion screams
the eyes see dawn
broken down and leaning
upon the need to
try and not forget to breathe.
I walked the wooden floors wasted
and that angst that only comes
from the desire of another
that does not know you ever
were even in the place that you first saw
that would be lover
and I fade into the cracks in the paint...
and I fall like rain through the rusted roof
and I ramble like vines up the wavering walls
do I dare breath a word to you?