I saw love wearing shoes in the rain,
but it dripped backwards and was fire.
She handed me a hand full of worms
and told me it was my heart.

I tried to kiss her shadow as it faded
the shadow starred at me first.
It began as we argued with the moon
about whether silence could bleed.

A staircase appeared,
spiraling into my throat.
Every word trembling,
I climbed until I reached halfway
and there she was,
sitting at a table of clocks,
feeding time to the dead
Pigeons.

She said:
“Every orchard is an eye.
Every fruit, a dream.”
Then she gave me a mask
made of feathers and mirrors,
and whispered:
“Now love will see through you.”

The sea tried to listen,
tried to feel,
tried to touch,
but it had no ears,
it had no hands,
just a mouth wide open lips,
so it swallowed itself instead.
While looking on in disbelief
I drowned on dry land,
laughing,
Laughing at all that was once before
because now her perfume
tasted like absence,
and every word a song,
that I knew the melody,
but had forgotten to sing
She just smiled
as she would walk on bye.

Love is not love
this is madness
it is a map that eats itself,
a candle flickering that refuses to die,
a bizarre adventure,
a journey for the travelers of the lost,
A begin with no ending,
only doors
that open into other doors,
and every memory another oil painting nailed to the walls of the mind.