This Untitled Thing


If these words were said

And not in silence wallow

But if they were surfaced and heard


If when your dance had been

For me and not for

Those wilted things adorning you


If when your hand held mine

And every breath had been exhaled

For you


Had you known it had been you

That in tenderness held a soul

And since, owned it fully


Had you known of everything then

would this fount of misery be unshed

before you

or would this ground remain stained

and this heart remain unlatched like



About kyogakura
Bored 95% of the time.

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