Proof of Love

A revolution bloodlessly conceived and fought
In the dusk light absent eyes glazed thick with thought
Head an overblown bloom drooping from its stalk
Silently, with no one inside

Tread quietly through the sacred rooms, the silver halls
Smear the prints, wounded hands across the naked walls
Un-effaced, the traces as the evidence
The proof of love

Behind the curtain shakily rip out a battered heart
Take the stage with ice-filled veins and reconditioned parts
Truth sleeps somewhere between the pretense and the art
Silently, with no one inside

Tread quietly through the sacred rooms, the silver halls
Smear the prints, wounded hands across the naked walls
Un-effaced, the traces as the evidence
The proof of love