All Things Move Towards Their End

“She was given to me to put things right
And I stacked all my accomplishments beside her
Still I seemed so obsolete and small”
– Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

A painted fan with crimson tears
floats on the wind of appetite,
occasion approaching the backbone
of gathering storm rekindled
amid flickers of those disregarded impressions,
casting shadows in lands we can’t attain
sentient nightmares and bullet compassion,
catastrophic we weep in intervals stretched
into sublime timbre and anticipation.
You told me to go down to the waters,
to feel the ocean fill my lungs,
brackish tangs for paramours cry,
testing each lungful of replaced form,
“Do you love me? Like I love you?”*


*Do you Love me – Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

Poem © Phen Weston 2015

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