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“Hanging on to the edge
Of this precipice
I feel as though
The beating of my heart
Shall cease
The moment your feet
Hit the ground
And you head toward
The west, head held high…
I burst with joy for you.
But I dread the stillness
Of that lonely heart
At being left behind.”
― Silhouettes
Of this precipice
I feel as though
The beating of my heart
Shall cease
The moment your feet
Hit the ground
And you head toward
The west, head held high…
I burst with joy for you.
But I dread the stillness
Of that lonely heart
At being left behind.”
― Silhouettes
“Dear Muse, you are a saint.
You give me strength in words
So that they flow as droplets
Over the lines of a page.
But dear Muse, you are
A double-edged sword.
You cut me deep
So that I can cut deep.
You show me how much I can love
But curse me with the power to hate.
So exquisitely, so completely…
Dripping like blood from a blade
As you cut deeper, so deeper…
Dear Muse, what have I become
Only to feel pleasure
From such divine pain?”
― Silhouettes
You give me strength in words
So that they flow as droplets
Over the lines of a page.
But dear Muse, you are
A double-edged sword.
You cut me deep
So that I can cut deep.
You show me how much I can love
But curse me with the power to hate.
So exquisitely, so completely…
Dripping like blood from a blade
As you cut deeper, so deeper…
Dear Muse, what have I become
Only to feel pleasure
From such divine pain?”
― Silhouettes
