Hymn of Heartbeats
O' pearlescent papercuts painted in
honey jar spells of journaling june ~
I ponder, if the spirit of
the seven-spiked sun must taste
the pewter petals of
slow-dying summer,
to hear what fades
and lingers
in the
heat
of
healing
damsel dusks...
breathless... lifeless...
to feel the forlorn ~
in liquid scents of love...
but, why do I evermore
remain a whispered wound, bleeding...
weightless in the veins of weary weeds,
wrinkled in the holy hymn of heartbeats?
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