the letters of my language
dipped in your lipstick
how a spirit is lost
in woodlands of your hair
a soul can not abandon
the temple of its birth
How many pilgrims
are lost for your skin?
Category: notes
Notes
Walk through gates of my being
As you did…
The woodland pastures.
I am an openness
In the calamity
Of a star.
Notes
To be of memory…
The starlight painted seas
Your eyes belonged to.
I remember then,
The hush of ocean.
Also the cost…
Of a moment.
ahorsealone 