The sun is west of here & there heaven sleeps.
at least that is what the sages claim.
i sit at my doorstep & watch the sky foam
like soapy water after laundry.
This life is full of tragedy but we must move.
I move a lot, faraway from everything that is kind.
On the bridge, watching birds entangle themselves
with rivers, i hunger for that silence that nothing
can wake from. There are tattoos on my chest
where birds lift off. There must be magic
in a man's skin because darling i still breathe
even after you left. in my throat, a firefly sings
with colours & it is not magical. it is me & you
watching the stars fall. the heaven is pregnant
with all my sin & God must be busy
because when you left there was silence
& then, there was more silence. I will love myself
if i have the strength to measure my heartbeat
with my fleeing feet. What is it we desire?
Yours always,
Osahon (warpedpoetic)