Would you notice? If I wrote my name in condensation
Across icy panes of glass? Would it be lost in translation?
Would you carelessly wipe it clear with your sleeve?
Oblivious to the loss. Never to grieve.
Am I a ghost, something of insubstantial material?
Vain attempts of solidarity thwarted into the ethereal.
Empty atoms, and hollow emotions swirling in winter air
Every nerve and sinew stripped down, laid bare.
I wait in chilly solitude, sitting on the bloated moon
Watching as sunrise disperses me all too soon.
Tiny heart shaped daggers are seated deep within
Cause of death. Just seconds to live.
And I rush back, matter forming around matter
Salty snail trails where messy tears splatter.
But there's still something lost, drifting, separate
Drowning in glossy eyes.
SOS. It's increasingly desperate.
In the centre of the confusion,
The remains of my heart.
Where tiny heart shaped daggers
continue their illusion