Quicksand

He gets what he takes and I am
heaviest in his arms I sink deeper in his love – he loves me! – to death.

My heart he feeds sorrowful tiredness
like a silk canvas grows to be
beautiful and heavy – but

A heavy heart will weave it’s own noose.
And I will pray to be hanged
by the gallows of his love.

His loyalty lies in the sands of time see his love heals, it runs out, and it is killing me!
The deeper I fall in his love the deeper I sink–to exile
and I am the heaviest in his arms.

My heartbeat he keeps like a metronome keeps time for a choir of ghosts – it doesn’t.
His love is quicksand,
the harder I fall the deeper I sink – and
I am the heaviest in his arms.