Vagrant Heart

It's funny, how, when left to it's own devices, who the heart remembers fondly. Surpassing all things, even death.

If one thing haunts my dearest wish 

And chills the space between each tattered breath 

It's the soft and quiet surrender 

Knowing evening's met it's restless death 

And there entwined in reapers silks, 

Where dawn dissolves it's final plea, 

That I should wake to find you missing 

Where in my dreams you sang for me. 

Should sorefoot poets make to jest 

And ask which features favored be 

I could not cheapen the remainders rest 

Even for the time you sang to me 

And there like echo on her perch 

Would I recite your every part 

And hold them all on equal stage 

Upon this pedestal, my heart...  

Reviews

[Candylove.]

Mesmerizing, and beautifully dark. You're a great writer. Every line has something to offer, this pulled at the heart strings a bit. :)