Muse of the Sleepless Few
With this day-tongue,
she’ll never say to you,
No, please stop,
but when the tangling light,
slips from her skin,
the shades of evening,
will pull her down,
to meet you in another guise;
one saved for those,
who cannot sleep,
but still dream,
with wide and crazy eyes.
Run, she’ll tell you,
… before dying loses its beauty.
Forget the poetics of how,
your last breath will feel.
There is no rhythm in white noise,
that can move a body like a heartbeat.
Make this dance your own,
and not some tribute to the ones,
who aren’t watching.
The truth is:
Angels never see it until it’s done.
(Image by: m0thyyku)
