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 Jan 2019 mike dm
Early light in gold,
fresh hay in the dew gloss:
teardrop aquarelle,
outlining our hands' depart
as, still, i watch your sleep, quiet.
Tanka [].
So afar and tall are you to me,
For you are from shining mountains,
Higher than the clouds, your brow,
Darker than the heavens, your hair.

So small and fey am I to you,
For I am but lone whisper in glens,
Slight as one firefly on the moors
And my reflection but a tiny glow.

    Only to spark at edge of pools dark,
    Only to fly when in harnessing arms.

I crossed a bridge to be with you,
The streams slipping times away,
Beneath my girlhood, all in a rush,
Then I entered the deepest wood.

So small and wan was I to you,
For you are from snowy mountains
And I am from rain-watery glens,
For you are portrait and I bokeh.

    One day the woods engulfed me strong,
    One night the bridge I crossed was gone.
 Jan 2019 mike dm
 Jan 2019 mike dm
Don't think
This fragment is up for your interpretation. Take from it whatever you see/hear/want. It was written after cliff jumping. The whole thing is very daring. It becomes a repeated thought process turned personal motto. The 'darling' at the end is very 'me'.
 Jan 2019 mike dm
 Jan 2019 mike dm
I want you heart and soul and body and tongue
The moon is under-rated.
 Jan 2019 mike dm
 Jan 2019 mike dm
When was the last time
you felt free;
where your hands can
hold a cloud without
breaking it apart?

This infinite obscurity,
I cannot handle.
The never-ending pain
I've accepted to battle--

All the overwhelming
journies I crave to cradle,

only to make me
fall to my knees,
begging for
another haven.

. . . where are you?
Inspired by a gif made from Megurine Luka's video, Lie.
 Jan 2019 mike dm
 Jan 2019 mike dm
Fact is,
I don't want to leave you.

Not even an
inch of my soul
wants that.
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