Choose to
keep these rhythms anew,
even among fallen trees
heeded in silence,
fallen hours that were
our time to say
love will find a way.
Love will cling to
rotting hearts,
leaves with gleaming dew.
In tempests, reflections
where those turbulent times
were mere winds to blow
tunes through chimes,
echoes through spaces,
bandaged wounds.
What had we
kept to, under these
glistening moments we were
fading in each other’s disease?
Both of our symptoms
were ending, though we
fell another time. Another
hour to check what we
always lived for.
Heartbeats in deafening silence.
Rhythms that keep up
with wounds, with violence,
holding us together,
keeping us forever
locked and tethered.
Heartbeats among those
storms, where oceans flow
on, to see our reflections,
our thoughts.
We keep bleeding high,
fading low, during those
days we fall backwards,
into spaces forward.
Nice poems! I saved your page as a bookmark. Will be back for more!
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