in the wisps of mist
stroking the curves
of a sleeping mountain
I hear a call

husky tones
siphoned off
by a cold wind
mocking

I see you still
as a filtered moon
drifts over my lashes
quivering

like the scent of you
as we dance
skin to skin
close

Like a quiet summer night,
it was—
or a gentle gust of wind,
and just as fleeting:
Their fated meeting.

Done, ends stitched in a seam—set
to be worn over yourself.
A stain so bright, you sparkle.
Too far forward to flip. The sipper,
the straw, the soda. Bleeding ink
every blink, but still brimming.
Ripped apart like a rainbow.
A love letter to life still
in the works.

So dead you’re divine.
Only visible in the love-light.
Weird as a plant that bites
the bully, as a phlox
sprouting through sand.
Wingless like wind, fin-less
like a fluid. Lost but
listening to your own heart.
Found.

sand exasperatingly tickles skin
as waves roaringly crashes upon it
a deafening wind agitates hair
as it rumbles through air
                   in all its chaos
                                       I find tranquillity

Outside air flirts with skin
numbing effect slowly creeping
gusting air, a soft assault
makes me grasp my jacket tight

Autumn breath softly whispers
of cold dark truths.
A lonely tree hides his ferns
to feed the roots.

Boiling cauldrons of mud form
to block my path.
Fermenting clouds leave me torn
between your wrath.

Splitting Venus chips last odes
to packs of wolves.
Deceased waters hold dead toads.
The world dissolves.