Sunday, August 3, 2014

Violet Skies

The sky hung over
With her afternoon quakes
And tears
Oh how she burned so bright
On the trip here
How the clouds were relegated
To contain their shape shifting
To clipped horizons
Now they stand full-bore
Over her head
Pouring down thoughts
Til something is wrought
From the flood
Hair drenched, eyes wet
With satisfaction
She may be nursing
A head ache, precipitating
Nervously, over the effects of
The morning
But I swim in contemplation
At the whims of imagination and
Reality, shoes soaked through
From puddle-dancing
On my way to the evening
Having seen her
Shed those tears all summer
Cleansing herself
Of constellations
The preparations for a night spent
With the truly mad
The unabashedly
Determined
How she burned so bright
Before this dream
Has readied her soul
For the darkness
In me
The coming seas
Whose tides lap hungrily
At all that is shored before me
The sky hung over
Recovering slowly
Rumbling hungrily
For the satisfaction of release
The bipolar conceit
That all the tears
All the years
Have dissolved into
Shadows on the street
And heaven might mercifully grant
These moments between
I have known her sweet
Undressed her sun-kissed mornings
I have stood and caught
Her tears in my hands
All afternoon
Now comes evening
Where we might see
Those stars she hid
Beneath her sheets
The heart that beats
For fulfillment
I exalt these quiet moments
Pedestal her open wounds
For beauty knows
Many views
I genuflect before
The altar of her heart
She may tear me apart, yet
She may scatter the whole of me
To a thousand disparate lands
Like the blood spattered dream we are
Tonight then, she'll cradle
My collected fragments
In her arms
And ladle honeyed thoughts
All across me
Through to morning
Where we'll move on again
Quietly accepting
The end of this
Journey.

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