This broken pump is in need,
Craving the blood it has always lacked.
Its swan song stuck on repeat,
Fed by memories trampled underfoot.
Time is like the wind,
Feeding on the flesh of sealed lips,
Carrying the echo of a kiss
Far away from where mouths used to meet.
I feel the hammer of regret
Hitting on the temple where love used to thrive
With all pillars burned down
In the fire of doubt and distress.
Crickets and sparrows carry a message,
But the cry of the lone eagle is all that remains.
Be it torture, be it despair,
It is all the ear can stomach.
And so we plummet at an astonishing speed.
Do falling angels in mid-air ever meet?