Untitled.

Hearts in formaldehyde—
Growing fonder by decay.
If I killed myself, I would be going home
Just like when I’m holding you.

All around me, petals turn,
And the dead birds sing
In a cloudless storm
That speaks without a sky.

All I know and all I see
Is the way our hearts should be.
Perhaps it is the ache my soul adores,
Side-by-side on separate shores;

Of all the drowned
I thought I could be the sweetest.
But what slipped through my fingertips
Was the hope I held.

All I know and all I see
Is the way our hearts should be.
Perhaps it is the ache my soul adores,
Side-by-side on separate shores.

© 2021 Marten Hoyle