I would like a night left alone with poetry
when the darkness of the sequestered  wishes that went ungranted swirl above the root of their conception
where all ill is met with the frankness needed
to climb a mountain in which the elevation is high
the feelings dizzying enough to make it easier
to want to trek down

I would like a single night to be multiplied  into months and years that chip away the ice top peak of such quiet black midnights
hidden at the crescent moon of my experience

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.

and i see it too.

© fey (27/12/21)

I have been well positioned by your love
picked up and delivered over my own fire’s hearth so close I was fanned
by your bellow into the firebox and that is why I am warm
my flames powerful and controlled
enough to set afire the thin veils of deceit
I practice cracking and melting fake plastic trees
I watch their flames burn dark. dark. Darkness leaves my hearth it no longer stays

To the quiet tiles and the slow rocks
that are
to flesh over bone that is
To the body and the mind that are time bound
and to the cosmos in my being which are not
The dweller, the dweller cannot die because it was never born ☺️

You walk and breathe and claim your stake on earth
with every blink
the sun arises and sets
For you I grieve that I cannot
come

Tight glam rock pants are back
mullets  have made a comeback
with the ladies and short fringes
are all the rage
curly hair is edging in

White as new sliced snow,
Black as the fallen crow,
Time stills its random flow.

Deep as the lover’s swoon,
Sultry as the summer’s noon,
Tender like the bud in bloom.

As autumn falters in crimson color,
Shivering cold in pale chill fire,
Love’s flame will come to an end.

Only then will they know...
Only then will they know.