A tinkling world of falling silver leaves,you float out backwardsand I follow you sliding on glassy pavementsin between the legs of peoplecrossing a deserted squareunheeded by the empty crowd.I'm in a hall of mirrors each of which reflectsyour figure...
A tinkling world of falling silver leaves,
you float out backwards
and I follow you
sliding on glassy pavements
in between the legs of people
crossing a deserted square
unheeded by the empty crowd.
I'm in a hall of mirrors each of which reflects
your figure dressed in white
except the one I look at which is me.
I find a crystal door with you behind it
and insert the key.
I try to do it softly
but the door just shatters
and I feel your silent scream
come pouring through the splintered lock,
viscid, like weightless blood.
I try to push it through the broken door.
It won't all go at once.
My hands are wet, I think it must be tears
but no one's crying.
Outside, the footsteps of the metachronal crowd
are trampling the silver leaves
and blood is flowing slowly in the gutter.
I feel that you were in there somewhere,
running from me.