Nocturne

Glass stained with the morning dew. 

That cold nectar of the night. 

That magical transformation. 

I sit as the midnight blossums into morning and the cold heart of winter pumps emphatically with warmth at dawn.. 

 

Brisk thoughts cascade like the snow 

The dreaming sadness of the night permiates in my soul. 

Broken yet unscathed, 

Open yet unused. 

In love and at war. 

She so feared love. 

For it has been used like a weapon against her. 

A goudy blade of adolescence.

The wounds, still festering with 

Insecurities and wise, understandable apprehension. She is weathered, independent and strong nonetheless.  

I want nothing more to blanket her from the coldness of night. 

But as is the world does turn; so does the sun shine brightly. 

She doesnt need me. 

I should be happy. 

Falling pt. 2

The blue hole in the wall screamed vibrantly with placid words of sovereign wisdom.  

Within:

   Drunk gods sang tiding to their humble audience and the liberal vibrations of their movements hinted at the coming storm.

That violent shake took courage. 

A symbolic yet unbecoming gesture. 

Pangs of unbridled affection came from vivid reflection and an adulterous wanderlust.  

Falling pt. 1

The leap 

Ever treacherous 

Ever present. 

The same anxious visage perplexes the senses 

Is it fear of falling? 

Is it the fourth time I've tried? 

Have I ever jumped at all? 

Yet again the story sinks beneath a strange tide.