As I walked you home,
The clouds in the midnight sky swirled against
The silver, shimmering moon. Together, they ducked low
Behind tall buildings lining empty streets.
There, when the earth was dark, they kissed and fell back to the sky.
I told you if my soul were this dark; yours would be robin’s egg blue.
The color of dreamy winter compared to lively Spring.
Did objects get shorter or taller as we walked? Are they far or near…
It is here, now, that I am perpetually falling apart.
The shadowy trees and city streets are crowded in my room.
Above my journal, the lunar desk-light cuts shadows, glows softly upon ceiling tiles.
Restless, at my desk tonight again.
Awake. Alone -- eyes to the window, the weight of the world against me.
Like previous nights,
The coffee brews at my side, an old friend.
The cedar acoustic snores under tapping feet.
And the darkfire in my heart burns
The words I furiously feed.
A somber tone crept into my voice like a cough I can’t shake.
It rings raw and sounds callous.
Yet, I think it elegant.
There is a new voice clinging to my heart like your perfume on my shirt.
Strong like the God guiding these lines.
This is how I feel tonight; I believe all those old lies.
Dear Readers; Are these moments real? Am I a curious fool?
So be it. The beauty in my eyes is worth a thousand failures -- is larger than myself -- and burns with the power of redemption.
We are young: A silver vision, through the window, dances at the edge of my desk. Can you see it?
The bitter chapters fall behind one page at a time.
I am tired and falling still, with energy left just for the
Happy ending I’ve written before, but never felt;
I feel it now: I love you, I love you, I love you…