Cloud Mine

Her cloud white sclera

was pierced through by the sublime dark centre…

Telling of a loud and bright soul somewhere

beneath all that matter….

We talked over old ties and exchanged new lies —

the kind that become truths fostered by fears…

And when time was no more we kissed…

then we danced ’til the morning, sipping corpse revivers.

© Heath Muchena

http://htmm.wordpress.com/