dark and dawn
Love was kind for a time, it shone like the sun. and you were my sky.
and it's on nights like this that make me miss the weight of your hand on mine.
It rains from the cold and bleak and black sky.
Anger burns in cold embers burried in the acrid and dusty comfort of ash.
Anger at losing what I had. Anger at loving so long and deep and the anger that comes with the cloaking burden of grief.
I am grievig what I had. I grieve for love that was, that still is. That's what burns me like molten metal, sticking to my flesh and boiling against my skin.
It blisters when someone else touches me, someone else who doesn't know the depths I have plummeted, the depths I have swam in the company of love.
It burns because they cannot know.
Images.
A wall against the dark. A light shines out, mutted, hidden behind it's dark mass.
The wall is sturdy and thick, brick and tall. Dark. Solid.
And then, suddenly..
The wall falls. Breaking free from it's selfish moorings. Falling in a single long, balance, falling in on the floor.. with a great crash and sweep of dust that swoops up and clouds the air, clouding what the wall protected, concealed, the light, and then just like that, the wall is still.
Just the dust, still moves.
I wake up, morning unwrapping herself for me like so many tender kisses on my skin. My hair is tousled and tangled and I yawn as I stretch the skin on my shoulders above my head. The new day awaits, full of promise and excitement.
Who knows who I'll be when I lay back down tonight. Who knows what I will hve felt or learned or taught. Who knows.
and it's on nights like this that make me miss the weight of your hand on mine.
It rains from the cold and bleak and black sky.
Anger burns in cold embers burried in the acrid and dusty comfort of ash.
Anger at losing what I had. Anger at loving so long and deep and the anger that comes with the cloaking burden of grief.
I am grievig what I had. I grieve for love that was, that still is. That's what burns me like molten metal, sticking to my flesh and boiling against my skin.
It blisters when someone else touches me, someone else who doesn't know the depths I have plummeted, the depths I have swam in the company of love.
It burns because they cannot know.
Images.
A wall against the dark. A light shines out, mutted, hidden behind it's dark mass.
The wall is sturdy and thick, brick and tall. Dark. Solid.
And then, suddenly..
The wall falls. Breaking free from it's selfish moorings. Falling in a single long, balance, falling in on the floor.. with a great crash and sweep of dust that swoops up and clouds the air, clouding what the wall protected, concealed, the light, and then just like that, the wall is still.
Just the dust, still moves.
I wake up, morning unwrapping herself for me like so many tender kisses on my skin. My hair is tousled and tangled and I yawn as I stretch the skin on my shoulders above my head. The new day awaits, full of promise and excitement.
Who knows who I'll be when I lay back down tonight. Who knows what I will hve felt or learned or taught. Who knows.
