i watch the line of collected dust
dance to Sigur Ros, shy
in the corner of my walls,
and i weep for the subtle grace of the world
that are left unnoticed and swept away.
my tears fall for all the saints and
deities who cannot help her,
for the truths that lie at her feet
like candy wrappers.
my tears fall for the many miles
that fail to take her pain away to spread
across the wind.
our words have run dry,
peeling off like cheap wallpaper
in the den of her mind.
i see her blurred figure,
from 5 years ago shaking me,
holding onto a child she is losing
and i wonder if she was as angry as she was
because she saw herself reflected in my eyes.
my tears fall for the world she orbits around,
for its colourless fields of horrors she doesn't
deserve to trust.
the candles have gone out,
the winds are high,
but i will leave the door open
to the dangers of the world beyond
where she has lost her way,
and hope with all the tears i have gathered,
that she will come in
with full embrace,
because here is where her mind is safe.
here is where we are all safe.