your face sits in november nights,
on the shelf, the window, pain in my spine
aloof, but there, speaking to me through divine, spirits
of our past lives together, the seas washing the shores,
memories sway to the rhythm of wind chimes, splashing
your visage, the haunting image, beauty found in faces of old clocks, boots worn out, in age
colours losing their hue, my face losing its tone, perfumes that hid scarlet dawns in their doubt, immensity
i see you in my own reflection, i want to build you from my own pieces, your face, painted, frozen city
skyline breaking, shattered, hollow creates
mirrors of my soul
