black skies stretch
in darkness, the clouds
dissolve into rain,
the night is lacquered
with varnish like
a wooden floor,
shiny and surreal -

it breathes of night
bird and the magnolia
light of the moon, quivers
and then is still, wraps us
in the mirrored waters of the stars.

the moon elevates
the night from darkness to
hypnotic light, bathes
the world in silver, flows
with our tears and our
softly spoken words,

transcends like lazarus
to a sky witnessed
through centuries,
loved and worn like
our favourite old clothes.

My heart yearns for the touch
of your divine mind, lush like
the meadows of fragrant flowers,
that drown me in the rivers
of your warmth.

Razor-sharp tears that make way
out of the delinquent hearts,
wrecks havoc in the sunlight
and mourns in the darkness.

The neglected alleys of society
becomes the pitstop for life,
yet the tears never stop flowing;
like the vows for life,

in good times and in bad,
in sickness and in health
until death do us part.

in the corner of my head
as I’m busy with things
seems I just can’t shed
my hanging broken wings

He'll always be
night sweats in the sheets
broken sleep
the tingling in my feet

He’ll always be
in the swirling autumn leaves
I chase but cannot catch
He’s a rogue, a tease
an itch I cannot scratch

He’ll always be
popping in and out
dancing in the shadows
traveling about
bringing me the lows
that I can’t bang-out

He’ll always be
a cardinal on my windowsill
a blanket of April snow
burying this sweet rose til
I bleed into the snow

for four-leaf clovers
rainbows
or unicorns
no stars in these eyes
they’re open real wide

I’m not looking
on a happy-ever-after
a fairy-tale life
with castles and white knights

I’m not looking
outside
for answers
I’ll take my chances

I'm not looking
for a fix
no panacea
my idea of happiness
is fighting like a lion
sleeping like a bear
soaring like a falcon
high up in the air

the night is silver
air, her dark ink
flowing like a pen, her
aches and sinews, water-
born, melted out of sky.
there is no cage

to hold the bird, page-like,
built out of river and
dream, it is free to fly,
carry the green of
the trickling leaves to the
rain-heavy cloud.

february builds her palaces
of love, a pretty rose,
a sentimental card,
a rain-sweetened kiss.

we are as full of the night
as a poem, our lips glazed
red, our hearts glowing
golden gathering petals
and sky.

She closed her eyes but felt that look
Across a crowded train
Too many people
Not enough moments
No head shakes
No hellos
No capture of a smile
Just that look
That haunts him still
Wonder if he ever found you
Wonder if you found him
Just that look

C@rainbowchaser2022