A thousand wounds I bore,
All different; similar gore.
The pus and blood that oozed,
Was the same of every noose.
Each cut on my frail body,
had a separate source.
Yet, it had always been yours,
the pain for which I stay woke.
The noise from my cracking bones
was your voice calling me a whore.
When I bled, they sent my blood,
to the best of labs for an autopsy.
What pathogen had gripped me so
The wanna know, they wanna know.
Your name on the report
Shook them to their core.
Poison kills poison, they thought.
And gave me then, your vaccine dose.
The discovery of the century?
My illness had no cure!
My lips are colorless and parchred,
But the drink I need is scarce.
And thus I march,
In the desert, that is our love!
I wait for the Oasis
To hit me up.
Oh my towering ignorance!
For the Voice I seek
Is found in the silence
Forget about happy endings.
Happiness shouldn’t end.
Create a mosaic of moments,
Sad, happy, happy, sad.
Lend me some of those,
The thoughts you push back
Every time a fresh one arrives.
Your discarded ideas fall through a wrinkle.
Right into my lap.
Let me be the catcher of the dreams,
You had never dreamt.
I will preserve them in time and space.
For you to visit at your leisure.
Your deja vus are secure with me.
I am the keeper of your alternate realities.
Find me when you are ready
To escape to a new world.