Ariel: The Restored Edition

Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.

while it may not ward off the world’s ill, does redeem her share of it.

If you only knew how the veils were killing my days.
To you they are only transparencies, clear air.

But my god, the clouds are like cotton——
Armies of them. They are carbon monoxide

Love is a shadow.
How you lie and cry after it

Is it the sea you hear in me,

Its dissatisfactions?

Or the voice of nothing, that was your madness

Dying

Is an art, like everything else.

I do it exceptionally well

He has seen too much death, his hands are full of it.

We should meet in another life, we should meet in air,

Me and you.

I am myself. That is not enough.

And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes

Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me.