He - cheeks like apples flushed,
chilled with a cold of which nobody knew,

He - bent under an ancient sea;
eyes grey, mind grey, both slightly askew.

He knew.

A pause, his reality hovering with his step.
He leapt.

And even though he only fell,

I truly believed he flew.

The empty air has a bitter tone
When it bites at my fingers
And yells profanities in an unrecognizable tongue.

It stings when it sings.

It has an aberrant gait
And a detached mien,
This lack-of being.

The tempest’s strides jounce its overly-wide shoulders;
Its prominent brow sends an antagonistic shadow
Cascading down its lip and jaw.

This active silence whispers age-old secrets
Its fingers tousling the amber leaves
Of my autumn’s long-dead trees.

The sound resonates,

And this taunting, all-knowing,
Omnipresent, nonexistent-but-still-there wind
Smiles at my naïveté.

Weary under the weight of the world
And the smog of self-importance.
Its eyes are clouded with grey rain,
Its teeth sharp with a bitter resentment;

“I’ve disliked you since the 1700s,” it breathes,
Throwing an airy, acrid gaze at humanity.
(“I’m sorry, but it is you who made me this way,
With your scornful industrialization.”)

Its eyes are frigid, piercing,
Wicked, yet reserved.
Cruel in their taunting assumptions,

Yet,

In those forget-me-not eyes

I found the sky.

His hands were fluttering birds; paper-thin skin stitched together with cerulean veins clung to bones, accentuating the already unnatural length of his fingers.  They hung at his sides, writhing in a nervous agony - sweat glistened on their blushed palms.  Those hands held the moons of Neptune.  "Where are you going?" I asked, a soft echo.  

The young man's head turned and he pulled a sad smile, "Oh, nowhere, really."

the sun had been so wonderfully
warm against his bare back.  
It flooded him with a peculiar light and he’s sighed
out all the weight of living
in one great breath  
he had tasted the sweet scent
of overripe apples and had licked the juices and the flesh of the peach
from his fingers
walking at her side he had eaten the summer day
it was in him
swelling with his chest
falling with his breath
churning
it filled him
and his blood was gold and his thoughts were gold  
while walking next to her
he had eaten the day
and he had listened to her voice
and confused it with the sun on his cheeks.