In the cold seconds of the dark night
When a message from another is frozen
Does not solitude answer?
Speeding back to reply
With a smooth and resounding silence
And most would place this
Next to the bins that they empty
But I see it
As unblemished beauty
One midnight rose
Whose pedals blend in
So that only sterling starlight
Can define its edges

My memories become
Motionless in midnight
Adept to freeze frames
Still seconds of past scenes
Linger on auditory loops
Repeat, remix, replay
Motionless my memories
Become in midnight
And at some point
The Spielberg center of my soul
Screams cut

Carrying me upon the path
With cracked and calloused
Hands
I sing merrily
The least I can do
Yet I see the obstacles ahead
No need to struggle
With them
And
Me

Why do you persist?
Do you have any idea?
What I’d do
If passion pricked my chest
I’d move a million mountains
Still the seven seas
Drench the deathly deserts
Fling flames in frosted forests
Slay Hercules in his sleep
In order to cradle
You a little closer
And nip at your neck

Hearts polished like porcelain
Shined so peers perceive no flaw
Then placed upon the shelf
Perfectly perched and priced
And in struts the buyer
Fresh from running with the humans
A mass of muscle, tail swaying slightly
Hooves as shiny as the horns
Brandishing upon its neck
A great ruby scarf
Won in a fierce and frantic fight

when you ask me if I'm bored
of listening to your terrible stories,
it makes me think about
what boredom means to me
and why it’s beauty that I find
in apparent mundanity.

you color my life in every tone of grey -
in a nourishing and poetic, underrated way.
GREY - the soul of every color in the world;
Invisible and aligned - right between extremes -
like all well designed things are known to be.

Or maybe because grey
feels like routine,
and you’re the everyday
that's to come and that has been.

you're where I set my bar for normal;
you're my Sunday night pajama informal.

You’re my common sense, and my reality check,
my perspective lens, my goodnight peck.
and even your grim phone voice
and plot less stories on sleepless nights
are part of the palette  I've come to adore,
painting magic in monochrome.