do they think of me as well
in times like these
late at night
or through the days
the backwards glance
from my moon
so it’s my heart
or at least some prime motivator
some reminder
what more could we want from a friend?
“Melancholy Sticks To Me
It Must Be The Irish In Me
A Great Melancholy Attractor”
they reminded me about my heart
my life’s purpose
my comfort
my true ways of being
my follies
reflected my mind
my own abusive actions
far more than I deserved
much less than I could meet
those perfect Friends
whom I could never fully love
or be loved by
either
or
both
do they think of me as often?
in times like these
late at night
quiet in solitude
or the terror of surrounding darkness and cold
in times like these
when they are also breathing
or indulging in any action
repetitive or inspired
useless or helpful
have they moved on?
are their hearts now content?
most of them I cannot see from here…
I imagine some now are
those the flames could not be
such hungry fires never quenched
destroying that which makes them bright!
ah, is that how my heart is?
little ram
knocking the lamb off the cliff
stripping the ground to the bone
the heart is…
…desperately wicked
who can know it?
.iP
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