Whispers of gold adorn your visage,
but why do they hide your facade?
The orange skies are calling your name,
but you're too vague to gaze the glade.
The dawn lifts your veil,
for you long to be caressed by the sun,
but as the covetous twilight blinks,
you shy away from the world.

Begging to graze the weeping clouds,
the ocean is leashed to the facade of horizon.
Clad in blood at twilight, precursing moonlight,
the sky garbs the ocean in its hues.
Yet, the mutual admiration is baneful,
since the osculation is destined to be an illusion.
But beneath the galaxy, when somnolence seals the world,
the ocean desires escapism and reaches for its beloved,
however, betrayed by victory, it devours the mortals,
pondering if it is demanded by requited yet unattainable love.

We try to relay
what we see
or seem to see
through the
smudged
frosted
or
fogged-up
windows
or
casements
between us

Seeing what we
see or seem
to see may
seem
delightful
or
troubling
at
times

but it's
all about
the inclination
of
wanting
and even
needing
to
see
the
truth

or truths
of what we all are
deep down inside
and trying to
at least be
a piece of the
puzzle
that can
aid the
receptive
listener
or reader
in
seeing

a bit more
of who they are
and who we are
in the picture
of our lives
and in the
wider picture
of life
and
living
in
a
volatile
and
complex
world

We need to keep
 testing the waters
 and acclimate.

Thank you,
To us, to all...
To everything made us cry...

To him, to her...
To whoever it is, stinging our hearts—
Creating tortured stars.

Everyone steps ahead,
Us—
Left behind, love-shaped scars.