Revolte
07-17-2012, 01:02 AM
Rain pitter-pattered down
–heavy, but loving–
as if it knew the path
and the blindness it owned.
With a question I drove
–one left unanswered–
through the mountain tree-fields
that hid the angel's home.
The wings of obsession
–dark, light and between–
grew from my aching back
to guide me through the glare.
But where I found myself
–I, who was not me–
was lost in thoughts of her,
then backwards in a fair.
And when I found the home
–after Bambi ran–
and she the angel-muse,
change would come forever.
But all those years ago
–when our eyes first locked paths–
it was somehow sweeter
then changed, alone, severed.
–heavy, but loving–
as if it knew the path
and the blindness it owned.
With a question I drove
–one left unanswered–
through the mountain tree-fields
that hid the angel's home.
The wings of obsession
–dark, light and between–
grew from my aching back
to guide me through the glare.
But where I found myself
–I, who was not me–
was lost in thoughts of her,
then backwards in a fair.
And when I found the home
–after Bambi ran–
and she the angel-muse,
change would come forever.
But all those years ago
–when our eyes first locked paths–
it was somehow sweeter
then changed, alone, severed.