Wandering through shallow brooks,
Weeping from stares, these hollow looks
To a brighter rinse of stars
That could cleanse the blood from hooks.
Lay this heart upon a stepping stone,
Upon the spot where feet were forever shown
Marching for ideals to wars
Clogging this heart, apart from reality –
That the smeared step
Kept being rinsed with what we kept.
The marks beneath your eyes
Stayed as evidence for heights we leapt.
The smeared step
Held evidence for our avoidance –
That the march to idealize wars
Kept us from rinsing blood with stars.
It was our kisses that kept us moving
Towards places, vain for loving.
Drinking blood from a breast
Cold to the hand
Raising reality where droplets land,
Far within earth, apart from the rest –
That kept us dancing
To uncontrolled naivety
That our halos would remain floating.
Kiss the place, the ocean of our state,
The whole of life upon its plate
Overwhelmed from pain that could not wait –
To see us drown in the arms
That broke around currents in our harms.