The gray skies draw
me into neutral hopes
of joy and misery.
I stare blankly as
I past the world
behind me.

My black wings shutter
as I try to find
some sort of warmth
in my empty chest.
My dark eyes search
for pair of blues
to end the darkness.

But my wings only burn
as I am drawn to
the turqoise flames.
Maybe it is best
to swim in my ashes
as I try to forget you.

Maybe it is best that
I do not visit the empire
of fish and chips.
Cause for some reason
my ears send beats
of desire when you speak
to me in your native accent.

I should really bandage up
the wounds that bleed
from my hands as I try
to forget the past,
but it continues to
flow through my fingers.

My wings molt all around me
as I stand alone in rain
of dark feathers.
Maybe it is for the
best that I stand over the
grave of Eros as I rest
a hand on his tombstone.

For my heart does not
beat anymore and my eyes
do not burn for the desire
of your company.

09/17/2003

Posted on 09/17/2003
Copyright © 2025 Christopher Shin