The Art

The truth comes out after a while

I promise to love you until I die.

A heart so divine,

I will forever hold on to this ride

The spilled ink coming out of these fragile hands

Are forever yours

Although these words are not mine

I promise you that this is true

I am forever yours

And you are forever mine

The beauty of this languid reverie

In which only you can see

You are my walking atlas.

Even when I am lost,

Just the sight of you,

I am home.

And I think that we are natural disasters

Natural disasters that are only remembered,

When the tragedy has passed after years of grief,

Destroyed homes in a brief

I think that is you and me

I am the natural disaster

And you are remembering me

Forever and always, are our memories