I can see the moon, and I can see you.
To me, you could outshine Her with your smile...
if you really wanted to.
Your expressions are brought to life
by the glow of the fireflies in the night so quiet.
The ghosts of the graveyard would draw us in
and to the Tangled Tree in Chains we'd run.
The wind would catch in your ebony locks,
and I was so jealous, of anyone and everyone,
that had anything to do with you.
I await the gaze of those Irish moss irises
at my snowstorm baby blues,
but I am walking-stick-thin and prone to rainfall.
Do you feel my heart bloom
when your weather-worn fingers trace the bones in my face,
and my cheeks smear with the color of ripe raspberries
in the midst of a fair summer?
When we peek through the tall grass with feline eyes,
spying upon the fire deities in the tumescent black,
I hope they will never call you away from me
with the heart-break sunrise with which you will flee.