How many strange stories
have I told the sky,
about life on an island –
and pulling my soul
back into the world?
I lived there,
the smell of ink
and cold Jasmine tea.
And the taste of an
underground goddess,
someway into our courtship.
How easily we parted,
just a matter of what
comes and goes.
And slow, slow moving.
Everything went.
back to the sky.
And a future of
gold tailed comets.