Who

Like the night swallows the day,
your light corrodes my heart.

It withers like the pages of an ancient novel,

your touch scattering
a field of dandelions in the chilly black.

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Like snow

White cotton falls from the sky

I chase after them with pale fingers

Like tall grass dancing in the wind.

 

They rest on my hand like the tears of summer,

And like you,

 

Disappear with the gentleness of a passing breeze

Of dried red autum leaves

leaving no trace but that on my heart.

Snowflakes;

Fragile

yet elegant coat her,

nonchalant and magical.

How far

before

her legs give way and her blood turns cold?

One step

and her boots sink deep into the icy field of white.

You.

I like the way
your almond eyes shine;
so bright,
when you say babe or hi.

You make me an angel,
royalty too,
your love and admiration
makes me fall deeper for you.

You take a deep breath–
my heart skips a beat,
I’m falling, cartwheeling
to an eternity of you.

Naked.

I followed you,
your trail of blazing fire
that flared up in the sky,
that plunged the world in red,
red.

You stilled my heart with red fingers,
brushed my ebony hair with a soft whisper,
shhh, shhh–
and smiled,
like the last rays of the setting sun.

Field of Green;

Are you listening to
the whispers of the trees?
Their leaves rustle red-purple in the
pastel field of green.

There hung a man they claimed
“didn’t deserve to be free”.
He hummed a desolate melody when
they said he murdered three.

In the dark of the new moon he cried
and told his lover to flee;
“run far away and hide
don’t you ever come back for me.”

Are you listening to
the whispers of the trees?
Their leaves rustle red-purple in the
pastel field of green.

There hung a man they claimed
had taken the lives of three.
The noose was tight, his body light
as he swayed in the field of green.

Dark Night

You took him away
and I cried–
we cried.

Grief-stricken and heart broken,
with hoarse voices we called out:
Why! Why?

The ruthless wind
lifted his ashes high,
swallowed by the night.

The stars shone and the high tide
swept him away
like a soft, sweet lullaby.
Oh,

with wounds still fresh
and broken flesh,
we prayed for that secret
better place.