Strengthen these arms
for they only exist to hold up the black canopy
that is the night sky

May these legs find purchase
on this expanse of tilth
that has received the boon of yesterday's cry

Feel the cadence of my skipping heart
resulting in the breeze of faltering breaths
lulling you as you lie

Comfort the tremors of these quivering lips
as they whisper forth
promises of mysterious galaxies and
cryptic nebulae

These eyes would cast their gaze;
assuming the role of sentry
guarding from all who would pry

My being... My entirety was put here
so that your bed would remain safe
from future's winds come silent and sly

Spiteful absence
Torrents of pain
Purposeful
Deliberate
Invading, fading  
Truths

Who could’ve thought…
certainly not me…
how the fires of love
would burn so intensely,
and consume me
in the miniscule span
of three precious weeks.

Actually though,
it was longer;
it began
eight months earlier;
before the final
three weeks of  your
most cherished life.

It was before I
tenderly touched
your fragile skin,
so paper thin,
and looked into those
beautiful amber eyes,
when you’d open them.

My own amber eyes
looking back at me.
You were my mirror
and I had no idea, then,
just what I’d see,
or what YOU could see
as you looked right
into me.

You, my little one,
showed me a part of
myself I never thought
existed
before you.

If I hadn’t held you
for the treasured
time allowed,
if I hadn’t felt you
with my own skin,
seen you with my
own eyes,
reached out with my
own heart,
or enveloped you with
my own mind,
I wouldn’t have believed
how much the fickle
fires of the heart could
grow, expand and
utterly consume me,
in the span of those
three precious weeks.

The moment you exhaled
your last little breath
and died in my arms,
you took a piece of
my very soul
with you.

Keep it safe, my love.
You planted it deep
within you long ago,
allowing it to grow.

I love you always,
of that never, ever doubt…
till we meet again
my treasured
first born.

I missed you then,
I miss you still,
and for forever
always will.

-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights
~~~~~~~

~ In remembrance of my
Giovani, born and died
14 years ago this 5th
of July. Never forgotten.~
❤️

Rare riddles are oft bittersweet,
a never ending search for poisonous feed,
sand greyish desert coloured ****,
so many studies, not edible this seed?

Emeralds green in forrests deep,
sunken wood drifted apart and seep,
mortal words that never sleep,
in a city full of leaks.

cherished thoughts wandering celestial high,
whose orphans are these lost kids…sigh….
flickering fields, amish nigh;

shiverings on personal corpses,
numb of words, ah… stunts in shortest.

The words refused to be arranged as it must.
I lost my commands of the words, no, it’s no plus,
these words mock mankind as their playful lust,
sorry, now I can only say in the past tense:" Friends, 'twas....."



©  SYLVIA FRANCES CHAN