If I painfully stretched my own dislocated hand

To the navy welkin, amidst those lacy clouds

Would you also reach down softly from above

Just to touch my quivering fingertips, my love?


For we’ve never crossed tossed wayward paths

In the middle of Gaia, waiting, lost here on Earth

And Fate has tested us, tasted us its dark wrath

One ended up flying, another ended up under dirt


If I stretched my bleeding bruised hand, love, then

Or you relaxed your own tender hand, like a rosy fell

Will you wish to pull me up to your sweetest Heaven

Or will I have to drag you down to my bleak torturous Hell?


Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s