I swear with my hand on the heart
[mine, another’s]
that I know nothing
that I get on the train on my way home
and come off at some Glasgow terminal
that I write on my shopping list b r e a d
and rush through my front door with stolen roses
nowhere is written for how long, until when
but I hear your words climbing my body
like spiders the wonderwall
like ivy the cross
[mine, another’s]
I know nothing
and no book will be able to tell
how a hand is covering your mouth
His skin...white as the purest snow,
Her eyes...darker than darkness itself,
My heart...silent beats below,
Your wings...bare the grace of an elf...
His eyes...blinded, eternaly...searching,
Her skin...beholdes divine parfume...spreading,
My wings...above you...covering,
Your heart...next to mine...feeling.
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