I can't miss this

[sleepwithknives]

tone of which she blisters her lips with a syllable sound of setting my eyes to the side and shutting down my mouth.

let the sun rise
and the moon collapse
over the sky
and between the bending
whine of the waves

and push comes to shove
and these hands are released
into the fall of the misses
to the bottom of the eisle

her blood
paints the rocks
and my eyes
forget to look
at what i have done
at what i have become
at what reddens the cove (of drowning nuns)

.i miss what i want most.
i need her before i go
into the distant mess of a clouding sun
and some reigning feat
of killing she. before
i ever begun the ending tone
of driving feet for
destroying me with ease