Monday, September 24, 2012

Soaked in your Sweater

I am fog breath soaked in your sweater
a dew that cannot be shaken,
warm hearted,
a lighthouse behind the window of your chest,
the fires in your lantern
lending out a flicker,
to the humble abode
of your northern peak,
to which my winds
will ripple your hair
and the sweater
that you wear
without rendering weak;

my ancient lip has never ceased
to render all without word,
and from one kiss, time
will span forever, seasons
will never exist, but one,
the night will be lit
by endless fire
that roars in the endlessness
of a perfect paradise
for the high tower
in your one lifted eye,
a winter's edge
will never rise;

caffeinated and high
while daydreaming of tomorrow,
cigarette hanging from the lip
like a morning star
with a burning lightbulb
burning a hole in your back,
morning stars
morning stars,
reincarnated, by the simple adjustment
from the brim of a hat.