deepundergroundpoetry.com
Will be Mercy
It is not my will, that
in every moment of every day
my tears know your distance
I dream awake
In every place, I see you still
It is not my will...
With every vision conjured
my fabric still
knows your smile
fingers know your skin
My eyes the landscape of your body
breath your presence
my tongue your taste
lips your kisses
My ears your music, and your voice
I bow my head to your caress
Your catching glance and your deep full stare
from under and over
It is not my will...
My heart is full
from knowing you
But shattered sharply are all my thoughts
no death of senses, no numb escape
no dulled or faded edge
of sockets wrenched, flesh’s tattered ends
My fabric knows you still
My stomach cramps, my chest inflates
and it ever aches
Though it is not my will...
But if will were mine
my heart I’d puncture, under Sun
and nail to the tender wood
of the tree called Mercy
high on loves tallest hill
in every moment of every day
my tears know your distance
I dream awake
In every place, I see you still
It is not my will...
With every vision conjured
my fabric still
knows your smile
fingers know your skin
My eyes the landscape of your body
breath your presence
my tongue your taste
lips your kisses
My ears your music, and your voice
I bow my head to your caress
Your catching glance and your deep full stare
from under and over
It is not my will...
My heart is full
from knowing you
But shattered sharply are all my thoughts
no death of senses, no numb escape
no dulled or faded edge
of sockets wrenched, flesh’s tattered ends
My fabric knows you still
My stomach cramps, my chest inflates
and it ever aches
Though it is not my will...
But if will were mine
my heart I’d puncture, under Sun
and nail to the tender wood
of the tree called Mercy
high on loves tallest hill
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