Mapped on your body. Base of spine. If a cat you have lost 3 lives.
My lives are my loves. I too have 6 left.
A rather unusual series of events...
Heavy hearted because who doesn't want to feel?
Heavy mouths will feed. An accolade of what once was and what will continue to be. Suddenly. Almost immediate, heart sinking amongst rising floods of approaching tears.
Howl at the sun the moon is not enough. Sink wolf teeth into stone. Flesh falls from bones. Dare with mercury in vocal chords. Touch peaked too prematurely. It was marginally excusable. Now fraudulent absentian. Blown skin has chewed your tongue. You are a real human being.
Abrasion. Cold. Coldly going. Going down the frosted path I should never have allowed my feet to tread. Intercept thought processes. But it's not good enough.
My blanket of sun won't dry your sodden grey clouds. Repulsive. Look! Look how they hang in the abyss. Drenching smiles with acute deluge. This sorry atmosphere between us... no.
Route our pain with maps. Keep in with army tracks.
Easy, so... we'll circle the view. In stratum. Into this so I wander with you. Tick; it means devoutness.
Stroke the inter.
Grand plans we made in seas and rock of prominent cities. There, in surprise and certainty, so rich and decadent as much as flavoured with bitter ground reality.
Crumble around us. Left scattered amongst brick and mortar. Our dust of broken hearts will settle into new tracks.
And if we walk them again the dust will rise with fury and irritate my skin. It will indulge my weak lungs to frenzy. I will not breathe and I will sneeze from the force of travelling songs emptying from my throat and nerves, spilling on to the dusty road we made but should never have taken.
But carry on.
Give to melancholia your fated hysteria.
Even if your sweet mind can't hold your weary thoughts, your legs will push on forward. One in front of the other. Pushing against the northerly winds while your response kicks back. And so you shall see, I was right all along.