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Slum Snow
You trek, eyes closed in faith
Knowing
What is yours
At the end of the road
Has already been told.
It's written into stone
For you.
How ironic
That the very tonic
You only longed for
When you were thirsty then,
Would drown you now...
My dear, we are subtly entwined
Into destiny:
And I am
Merely
A thread of fate
Interwoven around your skin
Until you resemble
The ball of yarn
I used to roll across
The backyard, under the stars.
Alas, it would seem so far then...
And as in poor mirrors
We learned to see
Through speckled glass
For so long
That the thought of perfectionist love
Was dumbed down
To whatever we got our hands on...
Yet I profess to be
Your looking glass:
Wiped clean by your Windex tears,
I provide no obstruction of vision
But only ask
That you place warm hands upon me.
And like a flat rectangle form
Of a crystal ball,
Our future will surface
Beneath your touch...
Snow falls
In the alleyways
Of the slums
And for a moment
It is all pristine...
