Crest
on Poetry
Crestfallen, thinkin’ I understand you,
In this mess of broken, thinkin’ I can feel you,
Is it too late to heal your soul,
Or are you the glass sliver cutting me through the core?
The blackness of your eyes dulls the madness of your mind,
And every smile of yours hides the depth of the white,
Whilst flowing through your lake of shimmering presence,
Someday I might lose my existence.
Then one day in this pursuit, you might find me in my absence.