This sweetness that surrounded us, and bled with us
We touched it, and it smelt far worse than weeds
I have touched winds
I have touched sorrows
(I touched the devil once)
and I have touched the past
It was like the love of thorns, like the beauty of dead summer
But I, the lurker, the carrier of wounds outlived
It
I have left now (Have I not?)
The thorns embraced us,
while resemblance dragged us further down
It burried our minds
None shall outlive this rhyme