Pink Bullets jen: I was just bony hands as cold as a
winter pole you held a warm stone
out new flowing blood to hold oh
what a contrast you were to the
brutes in the halls my timid young
fingers held a decent animal
Over the ramparts you tossed the
scent of your skin and some
foreign flowers tied to a brick
sweet as a song the years have
been short but the days were long
Cool of a temperate breeze from
dark skies to wet grass we fell in a
field it seems now a thousand
summers passed when our kite
lines first crossed we tied them
into knots and to finally fly apart
we had to cut them off
Since then it's been a book you
read in reverse so you understand
less as the pages turn or a movie so
crass and awkwardly cast that even
I could be the star
I don't look back much as a rule and
all this way before murder was cool
but you memory is here and I'd like
it to stay warm light on a winter day
Over the ramparts you tossed the
scent of your skin and some foreign
flowers tied to a brick sweet as a
song the years have been short but
the days go slowly by two loose
kites falling from the sky drawn to
the ground and an end to light
