Vicariousness

Rip the paper clouds

From the laden sky

A leaden catastrophe

As all my words leak

In rivulets down your face

Coat your white wings ashen

Blacken an already tarnished halo

A tongue to taste what I mean

A choke as they fill your throat

But never your heart

Grapple with these possibilities

With a singular weakness inside

You keep coming back

To my siren call

Wading into my perfect storm

Where all the shelter is destroyed

And only open fields remain

To lay and fuck

Under dark midnight skies

Check out Meno Silencio’s books here!

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