Stream of Conscience

fragile hands of a lover

You

illustrious and complete

with your heart of stone

and your soul of glass

pivoting effortlessly

between the empty corridors

and abandoned walkways

of your intended dreams and projected desires

and seek to find

the narrow door of reason

where an empty room

may be filled with the collected residue

of tainted fear and lost conviction

a lamb to the slaughter

a tear to the rain

you find your heart of flesh

and your liquid blood expanding

dragged helplessly  away

like a whisper in a storm

but suspended in a mist of beauty

like the lingering echo

of the final breath of song

gently dying in time

like the fragile hands

of a lover