Like the cold beauty of the snow,
Beloved, is your countenance,
And intangible as shadow
Is my own foggy temperance;
You are the rationale of thought
And I the haste that feeling wrought.

To my moonlit silver you are
The triumphant glory of gold,
The radiant sunburst of your star,
The tinge of my gleam, still and cold;
I am a bride in ornate lace
And you the veil that hides her face.

Like the tender soil of the earth,
Beloved, rooted deep am I,
And your grand destiny since birth–
The infinite range of the sky;
You are the grace of the feline
And I the faith of the canine.

O love! you are the Black pieces
Seizing a win against all odds,
Against my White heart's caprices–
The resoluteness of the gods;
I am the longing in your breath
And you the succour of my death.

© InscrutableAngel

a battlefield with no blood, just poison
using words not weapons
where every little thing hurts, that's happened
where the soldiers don't sacrifice but disappear
leaving wounds that are severe.

somewhere along the lines my favorite colors got blurred.
it was forever blue until it was silver
silver didn't last long I liked porcelain more
that one didn't last long either I learned to love red.
red always went away I liked white to though.
but only the kind of silver you can write with on the porcelain.
the silver that turns the porcelain red and cuts it.
the silver that tears you apart
leaves you with little white scars
so I guess I like white to now?
wow that red didn't last long but it sure pains me to see it go.
the silver is pretty though I still like it but
it  still looks even prettier pressed on the porcelain skin of my arm or thigh in the winter time
so I guess I still like porcelain to?
but then the skin rips under the silver
it turns red and I remember how much I liked red.
a it fades to white I think about my colors and why I like them.
from blue to silver to skin color to red to white.