Some hearts are ghost and we are alone isolated to settle down in dark waters. He pins a dragon on his hat as I slide a lilac mint into my mouth, smothering each from the other. I feel so fierce, so delicate it's the world’s ridicule because they've all forgotten how to speak or show tenderness; just as silk grows heavy and drowns with the stone, just like diamonds drown from a night so cold the death is stronger than life it seems, it seems the death is stronger than light it seems. And I live in a town a thousand miles from cities, where my heart stays warm but his dragon pulls like a wind through the dark. So I go and sit beneath the white willow tree as I know no other protection. The story is long and it's told silently bleeding under the williow tree. Isis the mother dying in her rented room, Jesus Christ will come back soon. I promise you this, I promise you that and I even call upon Vespa. Please bring me home and safe, eternal homes of the transient heart where I'm bleeding beneath the willow tree, isolated in extasy. Bring him back to me before I die bleedin' beneath my white-hearted-ghost willow tree.
©Words Wendy Rose Watson