Winter's Reply
I wish, sometimes
That there were stars
To wish upon.
My intentions smeared
By city smoke & ink,
But the chimneys & the streetlights
Pour out desperation
As if we'd never run dry.
There is
An empty throne
In my mind,
Waiting,
For something glorious,
A crown of thorns
Aching for flesh.
I puff halos
From my cigarette,
& find all my martyrs
Still breathing.
This life around me
Runs on gasoline,
& faded history.
The mechanical hum
Has taken root in my bones.
I am screaming through the snowflakes,
Demanding Winter
Would reveal
That she were dead or alive.
(Some part of me
Knows you
Are holding my answers
Between your lips
Unknowingly wasting
Every frozen breath.)
That there were stars
To wish upon.
My intentions smeared
By city smoke & ink,
But the chimneys & the streetlights
Pour out desperation
As if we'd never run dry.
There is
An empty throne
In my mind,
Waiting,
For something glorious,
A crown of thorns
Aching for flesh.
I puff halos
From my cigarette,
& find all my martyrs
Still breathing.
This life around me
Runs on gasoline,
& faded history.
The mechanical hum
Has taken root in my bones.
I am screaming through the snowflakes,
Demanding Winter
Would reveal
That she were dead or alive.
(Some part of me
Knows you
Are holding my answers
Between your lips
Unknowingly wasting
Every frozen breath.)
© Agent 88
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