What worlds we have created,
like giving birth, but not to babes;
to swirls of light, and fractured darkness.

It is as husband,
it is as wife,

To create these storms of color.

And my heart is,
torn. In pieces,
torn. In tatters; forlorn.

In the folding in
of our creative blur,
where continents collide,

A clash of emotions stirs;

And I am not to talk about this hurt.

Advertisements

What worlds we have created,
like giving birth, but not to babes;
to swirls of light, and fractured darkness.

It is as husband,
it is as wife,

To create these storms of color.

And my heart is,
torn. In pieces,
torn. In tatters; forlorn.

In the folding in
of our creative blur,
where continents collide,

A clash of emotions stirs;

And I am not to talk about this hurt.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s