paper boats

like soul spilt on mounted canvas-
never once a touch of ink,
eyes like dewy flowers: open
’til they glitter to the brink,

tears like candlesticks that melt
and freeze: cold, yet standing tall,
red like bleeding heart that’s broke
and lonely autumn leaves that fall,

purple like late sunset clouds’
swirling, swaying evening trance,
like picture frames in railway tracks:
never once a second glance,

let your dreams, like paper boats,
sail and sink in rippling moon,
and never once reach out, and watch
them fading ’til they’re gone too soon…

T. E. Pyrus

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