Grace is wasted, on the lost lips of Hope,
Like the charred, bereft bile that stains your tips.
The taste of your tongue, rough and fissured, hangs
Haphazardly on mine, mind alive with the
Should I take your eyes? Worthless as they seem,
As pitiful as the potholed, pits which run over your
Cheek. Do I forget my belt hung still
On the mantle of a youths old dream –
To surrender a second with you?
Time has no feeling, when only with ancient eyes
Can you implore, duty bound to protect alien kin. I
Have forgotten them; like they never touched my name
With long closed lips. You came then, blue waste in the
Poison of your breath, sterile to my protest.
Do it, unlock it, steal my heart. Take the words of great
Fallen men, call them your own lies. Deny the courage,
Carnage fought for the sweet silver of earthen skies, bite
The dripping apple still hung on my frostbitten lips.
Unlock it with the simple caress of your death enticing tips.