Pintor

In flats built alike
We drink the sight
Of all the glass
Where my reflection will
Seldom appear

Here's the light
On balconies, intact
Like a foreign ground
I'd have recently found
The proverbial lawn

It will cease to define
The path along the line
So eternally brown
Of that river

Days collide
Limbs intertwine
As roundly as
A bridge torn apart
By a stone-ridden tide

Oh, my spires!
Oh, clasp us tighter!
And may you never fall
And know the secret demise
Of all that's never defied

They have ceased to exist
They go widely unmissed
All the alleys aglow
And the cellars below
'Cause the rumour has it I never found yours
Clocks will sever the tie
And doubt shall leak through the tiles
Of a thousand houses
Where my absence has never lead you
As bereft as my heart's been
I'll have it filled to the brim
With time

I nearly went home
This won't last

Oh the alleys aglow!
And the cellars below!
The rumour has it I'll never find yours
And doubt shall leak through the tiles
Of a thousand houses
Where more absinth will never lead you
As bereft as my heart's been
I'll have it filled to the brim
With consequences of a loss