that sinking feeling, a solid weight a silken treaty signed first by fate bound tight with ribbon and cast to sea won't bond with water, nor gasoline
head full of fire, hands cold as ice eyes locked on nothing, tongue knotted tight a bitter rhythm, a sour grace and a heart of sweetness enshrined away
* * *
out to the meadow, hearts incomplete to the great blue yonder upon naked feet
on the weeping willow where i lay to sleep may the lion feed, so to spare the sheep