Deep in my heart, feelings stir, quelling any doubts of insincere thoughts.
Lying on fragile beds of lace, not wanting to journey past indignant meanings, standing to sides of pathways, regretting their existence.
Folding away energy into mattresses of old, tucking in around the edges, uneclipseable moments in space.
Moths of ages lured to flames of lightened knowledge, quickly burned away, leaving only ashes to say they were here once upon a time.
Eons pass, all things end in places of their own, on final beds of satin sleep.