Pink Bullets

I was just bony hands as

Cold as a winter pole

You held a warm stone out new

Flowing blood to hold

Oh what a contrast you were

To the brutes in the halls

My timid young fingers

Held a decent animal

Over the ramparts you tossed

The scent of your skin and some foreign flowers

Tied to a brick

Sweet as a song

The years have seemed short

But the days were long

Cool of a temperate breeze from

Dark skies to wet grass

We fell in a field it seems now

A thousand summers passed

When our kite lines first crossed

We tied them into knots

And to finally fly apart

We had to cut them off

Since then it's been a book

You read in reverse

So you understand less as the pages turn

Or a movie so crass

And awkwardly cast

That even I could be the star

I don't look back much as a rule

And all this way before murder was cool

But your memory is here and

I'd like it to stay

Warm light on a winter's day

Over the ramparts you tossed

The scent of your skin

And some foreign flowers

Tied to a brick

Sweet as a song

The years have seemed short

But the days go slowly by

Two loose kites falling from the sky

Drawn to the ground and an end to flight