My love is a bird,
it doesn't fly though...
I keep it locked in my ribcage.beat.beat.beat.
inside of me.
...
One Day Without
My love is a bird,
it doesn't fly though...
I keep it locked in my ribcage.beat.beat.beat.
inside of me.
My love is a hummingbird flapping it's wings 80 times per second,
struggling to get out,
crushing my bones,
damaging my lungs,
until I'm out of breath, begging for mercy.
The infinite sky-his eyes,
the perfume of his skin,
the fiery rose above his chin...
My little hummingbird is getting impatient.
Is it possible to create a tornado with 80 beats/sec?
This dryness won't go away untill the next rain.
And so I wait,
another night,
another day.