not enough but better than nothing, i think

Still breathing, je respire encore

And I tiptoe through the silent aftermath, cringing at the crackling sigh of broken dreams beneath my feet

Dancing, bouncing between several dismembered hands from different bodies of different people I will never know, but I know more about their insides than I ever wanted to

Blood splashed carelessly on the ground like Jackson Pollock was sleepwalking and trying to do his taxes at the same time

If I had a paintbrush, I would dip it in the slow ruby river that slithers, looking for a hole to reenter the womb from whence it came

I would drown my drunken paintbrush in the people who believed they were and paint your story on the crumbling walls for the urban fauna who remain to read in your own language that you are loved and hurt

While they search for unbloodied acorns, still breathing

On respire encore

The sun is shining through your soul’s tears, not drying them but lighting them with the diamonds of your eyes and you can take off your glass slippers and wade in the pain with me and I will step on the crystalline dreams with you, and I know we’ve heard the final drumbeat, the conductor has supernova-ed on the podium, the orchestra is shattered, scattered hands still poised on strings with no arms to draw the music out of life

But we’re still here

I don’t know if it’s right or wrong but

On respire encore

We’re still breathing

Will you walk with me awhile?

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2 thoughts on “not enough but better than nothing, i think

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