She comes apart and breaks so easily,
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Imagining the life she painted on rice paper,
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Hurts in the wind.
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We ride our bicycles for the last time,
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Uncut the wine and raise our glasses high in the sky,
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A rhythm begins.
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She said “I wish that I could be fearless,
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Except the ocean tide like their warm arms,
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Taking me over”
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But suicide is never so painless,
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I feel these changes come and these changes go,
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The end, it begins.
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She comes apart and brakes so easily,
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Imagining the life she painted on rice paper,
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Rice paper, rice paper.
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Rice Paper
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| David Usher |
