Thursday 23 October 2014

If I Count

If I Count

Even the smallest movement of air can bring down the house of cards
We built from dust and syllables strung together

Three words whispered in the noon bright
Or shouted into the desolate quiet of night
Bring the hands of fate falling to their knees.

If I count the breaths you take before you speak or,
The blinks it takes before the tears stop
I will lose myself in the infinities between truths, and those tucked beneath the house of cards
As it falls around us
While we count on another breath.

1 comment:

  1. Wow, this is really amazing. Beautiful words, so fragile. As I read this I felt aware of my own breath and realised I was subconsciously holding it and counting, in beat to an invisible metronome, as the syllables of your words were read by my eyes.


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