We started this in summer

When it was warm and fresh and free,

And our skin shined gold

Because we are

The gems of our generation.

 

But you left.

 

And the seasons changed.

 

It is now winter, and my heart is freezing cold.

Our romance has turned into

Nothing more than a

Light snowfall:

Slow and steady,

But when it settles,

It leaves the ground heavy.

Hearts heavy.

And our kisses are like

The cold, bitter wind:

They can travel

The distance,

But when they reach you,

It’s no longer a gentle

Breeze to caress your face.

Rather a hard slap that brings

You to tears when it

Hits you head on.

 

And I’m hoping

 

Since the next season is spring,

That we can crush everything we were

Into the dirt.

Grind it with the heels of

Our sneakers

Until there is nothing.

Then we can use the tears

I’ll bring--

From realizing that I’d

Rather have an ocean between us

Than three measly states--

And maybe the showers

That spring will bring,

That the angels will cry for us

When they see

Their two broken soldiers

Walking away from

What they could've been,

To sprout our romance from the dirt

And pick up right where we

Left off

Just before summer starts again.

Mist clouds forming on my skin
I dye my mind in thin formations
soft sentient siblings aviate my fingers
frost lit prisms projecting visions that I relate to
chromatic distillation fancying the minds eye
dark transient beings no longer apply
dispersing and spilling into stretches of time
Aether, Aether, help me climb.

"...There are miracles in the way their eyes linger, wishes in hands that are kept folded to still the trembling.

There is wonder in knowing that, someday, they will never have to let go, ever again.

This is what I fight for, this is what I've waited for, this is what gives me hope for the future.

This is what's meant to be.


...But late at night, when the bed that waits for me is empty, I fold wishes in my hands, and shed tears for what cannot be."

Lovers entered a forbidden forest bower,
And as they stalked that range, with eyes glazed,
She offered up her hind. Now, with doe eyes,
Deep as his, deep in arousal's sleep, heels fell,
As he knocked and pulled her dark honey hair
And whispered, surrender, into wanting ears,
Softly he drove his hunting command, homing
To his huntress.

Her body braced, yet bade, with heat and vibrance.
Ruthlessly, he ****** his arrow deeper and then
Once more and then again.  She bucked fiercely
And defiant, goading his prodding lance ever more
Ever longer, and parting the pink lines of her white
Rose, he was, and once again, Prince to the dark
Dominion of her quarters.

In the middle of this carnal match they paused.
And looking into the forest beyond they saw
A yearling fawn, a feral Goddess, grazing still,
Bathing in a vale, virginal, wholly unmoved
By their act of venery, lustfully playing, in the innocent
Leaves.  It was as if they were among her kin, a gentle
Doe and a noble stag. From that moment on
The human hunters did not speak.

Falling, again, rolling eyes were deep in arousal's sleep.
Her back was a crescent moon pocked and wet with dew.
He could feel her heart beating in time with his piercing
Prong, her arching back glistened in the suns spittle
As it broke through the dark and vernal ceiling wood.

In the final shot her quivering buck lowered and broke
And a sound not heard, made a scene, a sweet murmuring
Shuddered and sank onto the floor of the forest leaves
With her tale, taken and told, her breathless breath,
Her nostrils cold and her heated and lanced openings
Dripping, draining; here was a New World’s beginning.

Sated, solemn and softly quaking, his woman sweetly laid,
And now, doomed with her doe eyes, two lovers, fated, made;
She glowed, divine, like the rolling brook that mellowed
Slow, in the vine-dark and golden forest stable,
In Artemis’s wood.