Eyes wet and open

Timid and quivering.
Frightened once more by the darkness.
The cave of self looms and lures.
Hissing out in words spoken from lips.
Those once thought as delicate and kissed.
Cracks appear, and the light vanishes.
Heaving of stone, that misplaced affection.
An internal echo of loneliness.
What threatens was the dismantling of love.
Held behind glass to taunt and tempt.
But never touch.
I love you, though I see the dagger.
And I fear nothing of the after.
Only the fact I shall be there alone.

Love is also hope

Breaths coming, like exhales from heaven.
Lapping at me like the tide of eternity.
I watch you dream.
Capturing the stillness, frozen in ice.
Long have we climbed.
Battling ourselves and the elements.
Shouting into the wind.
Now all around is still.
Silent like the first snow.
I taste you like that snowflake on my tongue.
Tasting of winter, and childhood memories of safety.
You whisper out, calling me into your dream.
Puffs of words escaping your precious lips.
Cracked open like an oyster.
The white hurries.
Ghosts vanish.
And you tell me, this was never a dream.

Some kind of stranger

There were stories of course.
Bad childhoods and frequent trauma.
Violence was like the rain, blown in like a storm.
But she did not live in the past too much.
Her story was colliding forever into tomorrow.
Wiping off the fever that electrified each night.
She had been beaten and adorned.
Wrapped both pearls and handcuffs around her arms.
Flesh was to be devoured.
Ghastly and exciting, making a mess in her soul.
She wiped away the blood drool.
What lay between her lips, her soul, her hips.
Was given by her own decision.
A consensual bargaining, for being alive.
For being a creature so prone to movement.
The survival of the imagination.
Her look that cuts the room.
The heart pierced by gloom.
Made her a provocateur for a classless age.
You would smell her on your sheets.
Crave the wet drip that smouldered still on your tongue.
But she would be gone.
Side stepping a fall from a grace she named herself.
Wearing her own crown, made of tinfoil and treasure.
But it will not always be that way.
The legs that part make way for opportunity.
Which always finds its mark, awash with indecision.
She was the girl that left too soon.
She was the guy who bought the moon.
And sold stars instead.
He is not one to remember fondly, his past indiscretions.
But shame had no place in his beautiful heart.
And his story starts, not with a departure.
But a glorious homecoming.

I ate the prayer

Layer after layer, through teeth and truth.
Bones that trip and slip under.
Down into the briny wonder.
I ate the prayer.
Closed the eyes, for tomorrow will never see.
Bring that illusion back.
Roll back the time.
Sucking up event horizons and riverbed pebbles.
Milky chalk to wash the medicine down.
I ate the prayer.
Laid out on copper plates and paper trays.
Flung from hell and the devil’s lips.
That kissed and took me under.

Take a bow

Nothing to fear, but the beauty unleashed.
As those velvet eyes unfurl for the world to shiver.
This collapse of an age, of a time now expired.
Blown into the dust of yesterday.
How heavy it must sit. The weight of youth.
Trapped in a moment, encased in expectations.
Those lips, sudden to crack like an earthquake.
The tuneful words scratch, like a raven’s song.
Beneath this magnitude, sits the one I love.
Grasping silently for escape.
I promise to take you away.
From it all.
From here.

Wandering star

These wandering stars shape the night.
Pushing out the darkness.
You weigh like dark matter.
Heavy and invisible.
Watching as the other stars dance.
Can I taste those nitrogen lips?
Just for a moment, in the vacuum of nothingness.
How you have travelled, lonely across our eyes.
Blinking in and out of life.
Pulling me like the tide.