I see my kins dancing and laughing in unision but I crave the silence - the forgotten sound of reverie. Am I a part of their worldy communion or is my world simply a lonesome treachery?
On a rustic bench there laid a single cat of dire age. Between lushful green she gazed longingly into the distance - as if far away she would catch a glimpse of home to reside in irides of an amber lynx.
night has befallen your eyes agleam, iris casting shadows on those unseen - falling, falling deep; darling, dearest my gaze will catch you from the darkest pits - you crestfallen, asleep - weaping on the tower's peak.
our fingertips meet gently on the rim of porcelain and as we take a sip from liquid infinity all the numbness abides - induced by frost and rain.
the ember glow ascending from your eyes - no tender coffee with cream could ever achieve - is the epitome of what makes my inner child arise.
and i adore the way your index finger moves around the surface of the storm-kissed-window, while you utter your thanks for whatever makes this autumnal evening swirl in an indigo-colored vertigo.