Quashed Cliffs

How do you feel close?
I don’t speak with you, I don’t breathe with you
Where do you stand?
Do you perch on cliffs, would you not notice?
Cadence dripping near
Gently roughening
Losing lambency
It has passed from weak hours to quashed cliffs
Where have you seen drowning?
Where have you carved angels?
Where do you stand?
How do you feel close?
I don’t bilk my sins and I wouldn’t snatch
Does delphinus sustain her shine?
Or baby does she pine
For aconites erstwhile gawks?
It has passed from apocryphal peaks to docile lows
Where have you traced yourself?
Where have you balanced?
Where do you stand?
How do you feel close?
I don’t clinch with you, I don’t preach with you