Brooding, the faint slender crescent
living with ache and no serious sins
perhaps a memory surfaces to a mirrored abyss
reaching but never truly grasping–
I press my finger against the subtle breath of the East,
feel its presence
the churning chaos of scars long lost and forgotten,
I say they evaporate
or how else
could I even walk on this part of the colonnade?
Nearby, flowered and craving for a moment of rest.
On quiet nights,
in the absence of dreams, I breathe your name
there are moments when vulnerability overwhelms—
sliver-tongued
it makes us believe unerring safety, a recherché calm
and everything comes gushing out;
while I, betrayed by evidence of my body’s reaction
seethe,
feeling no different than the crescent,
than the wordless bewilderment of the East—
how foolish.

 

 

Photo credits:  The Pre-Raphaelites, Pinterest

A Skylover Wordlist: Colonnade, seethe, crescent, faint, east,
brooding, foolish, silver. ❤

Posted for Writers’ Pantry @ Poets and Storytellers United