Your features

Your features

Alleviate my future and heal the past.

 

As a backstage pass,

I take our common memories.

 

Like feathers,

Long years of solitude and blasphemy

Turn into a new remedy.

 

This is dance.

A glance into a glacier

Of the irrational,

The instinctive.

 

The incoherent and still distinctive

 

Connection of our endless projections

Never stops.

 

We wake up

Several dozen times a week

And we speak through the distance,

Overcoming the resistance

Of deeply seated

Intellectual peaks.

 

Our spring comes back,

Inherently fabulous and bleak.