Chere Rose,

Did your heart bleed apace
when you found for so long
that you couldn't find me?

The Teardrops marooning themselves on a drift of snow
melting crimson tunnels - the honeycomb of bittersweet

A mistrust so powerful, you gave yourself away
But it was time all along which rekindled us
everyone I sent who was forgotten out in the snow
was just bad timing;
everyone you took inside
hurt, for real.

Now with some semblance of life anew
set yourself ablaze, Rose, for all the world to notice.
Walk out on that highwire and hope that someone finds you out
Before you burnout, for good.
Aflame, adrift, awaiting

Last edited by Radical Bob at Dec 7, 2008,