deepundergroundpoetry.com
Captive Wings
As crystal falls-
from salt-fed eyes,
a burn to melt the breeze
Drop to liquid-
heady pool
A duct...
for Bold and Bleed.
A shard of "been"
in white-stain pour-
alloyed with silver fear
Belated are the pardons
that splay like lover's years...
The aches of time, material-
(dust on bone on dust)
Are consecration of a slice-
when fear stems stark with lust...
Iron stays suspending will-
in fits of palish pink,
To rise above a ceiling, torn
chagrined, I stretch my wings...
Behold! below...
A whiff of singe,
A burn to save my soul!
Dare I feel it mark my path?
Dare it make me whole?
To myself, "tread lightly now...
lest finality be born."
Ply with power's heady sight
"be brave, my mighty storm."
These burning bonds, alike we are
I sink before the deed...
To ripen from a pleasure pour-
I cringe. I need. I seethe.
... and Sweet Goddess, do I still need ...
from salt-fed eyes,
a burn to melt the breeze
Drop to liquid-
heady pool
A duct...
for Bold and Bleed.
A shard of "been"
in white-stain pour-
alloyed with silver fear
Belated are the pardons
that splay like lover's years...
The aches of time, material-
(dust on bone on dust)
Are consecration of a slice-
when fear stems stark with lust...
Iron stays suspending will-
in fits of palish pink,
To rise above a ceiling, torn
chagrined, I stretch my wings...
Behold! below...
A whiff of singe,
A burn to save my soul!
Dare I feel it mark my path?
Dare it make me whole?
To myself, "tread lightly now...
lest finality be born."
Ply with power's heady sight
"be brave, my mighty storm."
These burning bonds, alike we are
I sink before the deed...
To ripen from a pleasure pour-
I cringe. I need. I seethe.
... and Sweet Goddess, do I still need ...
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