Jasper colored skies, the night encroaches and even though I feel like a cold Tuesday morning I see in your eyes a darkness that would steal the breath from me.
Blackbirds silhouetted against the hues of your silence dance about the yard. How in the world could anyone love you? Tears born of a memory tear the shadows from your eyes and run for the border of your face.
Sometimes it hurts so much you want to rip it from your breast and throw it at the wall. If only to see if you could hit the garbage can. But instead you paint your world the colors of your soul as you see fitting. Onyx and crimson tides abound.
You’ll stand out amongst the galaxies and sway to the sounds of thunder in the distance. While laughing at the futile hopes of a dying star. So again the question arises like that of the sun, who has come back around to answer it again.
How indeed.