H. soft escape
The age of rockets
We are the nothing waiting in bad dreams,
we are the first cracks in the ice,
we are the hour hand, forever love's bitch, and
we are the tears in those who have come before.
And you whisper, you whisper this could be the end.
we are the first cracks in the ice,
we are the hour hand, forever love's bitch, and
we are the tears in those who have come before.
And you whisper, you whisper this could be the end.
The soft escape of closing eyelids,
the haunt of long nights still to come.
First blinding light then only darkness.
The cracks in pavement spell your name.
Electric whir of closing sirens,
each word hangs rigid in the air.
First scattered mass then constellation,
we held your hand as you learned.
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