The sand in her toes:
And I’m sweeping until my floor can soothe them.
The rose on her breast:
What had I ever known, but for misplaced insight?
Hopelessly enlightened of her.
The pause on her lips:
I’ll carry on waiting for the right words.
As a blanket of snow:
How could I ever have known?
Misplaced insight, hopelessly enlightened of her.
It was the pause on her lips.
We met her at the river,
And my brother set her down.
The calmest beauty I’ve ever known,
But my brother set her down.
Whenever we shall part and I am given to death,
My brother’s hand will I forget, but not her.
The smile on her face:
What is clawing through my thin resolve.
The wrath in her hold:
May she never know, of my misplaced insight.
Hopelessly enlightened of her.
It was the smile on her face.
Dear brother, how could you?
What trust unto bloodling has illed.
“Dear brother,” he told me.
“I’ve let go, but you—
Hold her still.”
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