"gently in these ragged folds
curled up and warm like easter’s child
a breath so faint, angelic weight.

i can’t deny
that i drift sometimes
even in these loving moments
to summery fields i call my own
where i can lie and in them feel
at one with my death
with limbs outstretched.”

Moments by Red House Painters.

  1. circulatingmind reblogged this from gokiburi
  2. gokiburi posted this