i have a dry heart without color
— and watch me go.
i am the beggar on the street
begging for a soul,
watching how beautiful people go.
i see a row of living flowers
all colors but never turning black.
i see how your sun-dress flows,
and i see a line of lovers
some turn their heads.
i am always besides myself
waiting for you through the door
watching the doorknob turn.
i say my lungs are blue and if I
open my eyes what shall i see.
I see a door so painted black
and wish you’d turn your head
and listen to the words of my soul.
a heart so full of colors and flowers
that will never turn black,
looking inside myself i see ribs
that shall never turn black
facing facts — i see a blue-jay too
looking for her nest and my love
laughs with me and I see a black door
with no doorknob and see how love goes
by and I still turn my head
wishing love to visit my soul
uh huh hmm…uh huh hmm…turning black
she turns her head and fills my
darkest black //
:: 10142015 ::