Breathe on Me
March 6, 2009 § 2 Comments
“Love that never told can be”
From the mouth of William Blake
A story killing the magical 3,
A baby dies for someone’s sake.
Without reading the history of heart,
One dies in levels, prevailing in pot:
There’s black in pure, skin in smart.
The imaginary hellish headshot-
Tossed to the floor once more.
Casting calls and freedom falls.
A smile, a shake, a tour-
Of a familiar room which calls.
Listen in silence.
Awake to it’s ringing.
Your eyes I sense.
I feel your singing.
© Sonya Rose