Tuesday, March 4, 2014

oxygen stains

When there is no sunrise
The world is our grey
A place I have learned to love and hate

I am glad I am blind
I can press these pieces of your spine against my irises
Mirror shards from my throat
Show me outlines of your face

When there are clouds
The pieces have been buried
Carefully placed between love and hate

You breathe into my mind
And I collect oxygen stains across the dome of my skull
Patterned reminders of haze
Bring the scent back to my face

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