proportion

And your mouth will stop towards mine,

 the roads  of limbs crossed,

and this is what will be,

 all is what will be

All is what we’ll be,

 

 and those steps half taken,

will be made whole,

 and only those ,

 nobody knows,

 

as only we can see

 the edges of the windowsills,

we can look on out the world,

 it’s not ours but inside, it’s ever spring

or summer whenever,

I suppose the  tick, the tock

no longer matter.

 

 

Adam has give his bones for me,

and I just laugh and ask about familiarity.

 And he looks like you.

 And everything that had another  is us,

everything on lines,

the balances become us,

the gravity that’s so comely.

 And a bell will sound the laughter,

 and nothing has ever existed

 and if it did, I don’t want to know.

 

Those nights of yours that grow so

Cold, my day will send suns

Your winter is not so big as me

And when I’m prone to broken bone

You’ll be my island that nobody knows

 

And I  know no better proportion.