there are strands of time that are effortless to follow as they wrap themselves gently meaningfully around my heart tugging teasing me forward to discover in the midst of all that is common around me that which is truly majestic
those moments now bid me pause and wonder at the pleasure of far more than a memory but an enduring vision of sensual you in summer enchanted, like the kiss of a sunlit day blessed by the barest glimpse of the eager adoring moon
she is a master at her craft a builder of extraordinary skill employing language deftly refined and meticulously set, her words one by anxious one rising as another wall emerges into the darkness of my days prohibiting useless dalliance, for all must have a purpose, even this matter between us that once glowed with passion, this once glorious act of love now extraneous to a fault
she has taught me much as the months have passed and I have struggled to find reason in this structure she erects, assuring myself that her silence is warranted by my own petulant brooding, her distance the result of my loathsome features— of course she does not touch me for who would choose to fondle this aging fetid flesh of mine— how much easier to keep building in simple untainted silence
I have learned my lessons well I abide within these walls
I have become all of the silences you have taught me to keep
[Thank you, dearest Allison, for your incredible talent at always discovering just the right words, which I then gleefully borrow from you.]
Again they come before me these constant spectres eyeless, mouthless, faceless, pacing across my ragged breath as I watch the fading sun, weary wanderer, sluggishly dip at last beyond the hills, no longer caring for the day.
Ravenous, these ghouls sally fourth, palely pouring across the brittle sky, more voracious they than I had ever seen them, swiftly consuming the fractured sun which bleeds yellows and reds across the angry heavens.
I knew them, I am sure, I must have, for why else would they shadow my days if not for the chance to accept the offer of my self to sustain their petty vindictive needs, feeding oh so grossly on the flesh
that once shrouded my heart.
[Once again I must thank Allison for her inspiration, having drawn from her “black” certain images and words that fed upon my thoughts. I highly recommend her collection of poems, Vein, which you can find here.]