Monday, 8 October 2012

A Lyric (For Leonard Cohen)

You are the image of my beauty.
(You thought you had me
But here is my wisdom, my honesty).
I feed on lyric, and wash your face
In the waters of my torpored eyes,
Because you to me are a cityscape
The ruggedness of industry
You inflame horizons in your achievements.
Whatever disgusts me about me
Is cured by the facts of your beauty
The crooked architecture
That bends under the sadness
In your shoulders.
If sunlight was music
Your voice would notate it
In its pitch-perfect brokenness.
Your anger makes your suppleness
Your bluntness kills.
You cry tears that burn.
You kiss with a mouth laced in acid. 
Your eyes are burst fruits
Weeping daylight's fluids.
You are the image of my beauty. 

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