When your roots are as fragile and old as mine, darling,
Forest fires are much more terrifying than drowning in the sky’s wrath.
But no natural disaster could prepare me for you, or your heart’s desire.
I watch you flutter through the leaves, your gaze never locking with my wandering Heart—too distracted by the glittering world above.
The fruit never did stray far from that Tree.
And you gaze up at her so loving and lying. I forget how to breathe.
She is force to be reckoned with—beautiful, as she is disastrous,
But she calls to you with a song as sweet as the honey that drips from her tongue,
And captivates you with eyes as colorful as the seven sins.
It’s funny how much can be read in the expression of the eyes,
Made of colored glass and the abyss trapped in between,
She stays long enough for wandering iris’ to glimpse,
Roaming behind the protection of crystal tears from fallen lovers.
The affair is as good as her lovers before, their temptation still lingers,
With greedy fingers and sloppy kisses they grasp at a fleeting mirage,
Left in the stars that now distracts your restless heart and itinerant eyes.
The night blinds you to the rising sun, the stars too dull to cast her out.
But once the light fades and you blink away the remainder of the lust,
You’ll find me waiting at the Earths edge,
Eager to fall off its surface—through the glass and into your abyss,
So that maybe one day you will look at me, the way you once did her,
And you, too, will know what it’s like to gasp for air,
Inhaling the smoke of the forests fire, exhaling the sky’s wrath.