Dangling Moments of Torn-up Beliefs in Vicissitude

I have never shown this to anyone:
My heart
My soul
My everything you are to me
Like distance turned to grapevines
Turning into things I change them to be
Being things into which I've changed myself
I feel the weight of weightlessness
Turning and turning
In a star-borne tortured old sky
Believing in things like angels
And the possibility of love
On a silent Autumn night
When the stars come out to shine
Just long enough to show the clouds
The reality of who they were to be
I hate this poem now
I guess I'll stop while I'm behind.

24 June 2007 10:00pm