I watch her dance

her movement
is singular
she trained
every cell to be
in synch
it is communication
in its purest form
internally and
externally

I understand
something about

eternity when

I watch her dance

Zodiac signs have failed to tell
of an epoch of limerence waiting ahead
neither could a compass navigate
a homesick constellation to its rightful cell
and yet I travel, swim, and tread
on a glimpse of you
on a foreign thread
on a beacon of fury to accommodate

Epiphany emerged
the world’s ablaze
mnemonic particles floated again
Astral projection took its toll
your skin reached out and took the fall

I oft hear sounds; my sonorous wails
my sword-of-a-body
and my serrated edges
drove them away
but there you were
a scabbard of steel
to engulf and congeal
to hold and to heal

Alpha Cephei has got nothing on you
you became the star that ruled the Earth
the right hand of the northern pole
the right hand I chant my paean for
you were 49 light years away
until you adhered to my directions

My roots will cease to loosen their grip
on your light rays and elysian touch
on what I crave, yearn, and long
for you are the home that got me stuck
and you are the space where I belong

she's a poet —  
whose soul is a mystery  
and is full of loneliness.

she's a poet —
whose mind is overflowing with ethereal beauty of words
and mellifluous screams of agony .                                        

she's a poet —  
who uses tears as her ink
and scarred skin as her crumpled paper.

she's a poet —    
who weaves majestic metaphors
and sails through her ocean of thoughts.

she's a poet —  
who sits at a dark corner of the room  
and cried into poetry by her tears that are made of ink.