I pose high my chest of ragged ribbons
And unravel a fist to stretch out fingers in search
Of a hand glimmering pale like a lantern
throughout this grey
        empty space. Once a pavement, now as good as

Cloud. Frozen lake. Dust. Boiling ashes. Skeletons.

I am walking on the slashed frames of waves
As jesus once must have. Propelled to a miracle unwitnessned
To anyone but myself. I am impelled to corrode
Into a statue; to remain a rigamortic rotting jade jewel in the sun
Until I no longer can.
Until they found me...

Perhaps they'd dust me off, thaw the ice from my shoulders,
Rehydrate me and gorge me,
Restart the blinking light in my brain
And refrain me evermore from having to seek.

But seek I must, for the lonliness weighs me down
Further by the day. I take half as many steps now as when I began my voyage.
My memories are like ghosts of flames that play
Snakes and ladders and hide and seek.
I am the lighthouse man and I sail drunken--
A rubicund mishape of bone and scuffed thoughts,
I can feel every soul which once embodied and huddled this place.

It's like they are trying so hard to posses me but even
Their souls have been smouldered to whispers
So thin they ring as mutely as the surrounding mist,
So soft they vibrate akin to an infant’s pulse
Throughout these walls, these scrapyards, these crumbling arcades, this sandbox grey that begs for a scream.
The spirit of a tarantula trembles along my back and grazes it teeth against my shoulderblade,
Praying that I turn to confirm it's being –but it's a game I’ve long grown sick of–


I am the lighthouse man and I ceased having a face long ago.
What I recall of my reflection was a child so young and so sure
Of a different life that

I cannot be sure it's even me.

I am the lighthouse man; a puckered bulb balancing on too-big shoulders, that walked
  through barren flat closes and exited empty handed, the lonely poltergeist,
a bitter flab of skin.

I am the lighthouse man and I am the final Aspen leaf in the pond of the universe,
I see myself reflected in a sole star twirling underfoot and overhead
rowing my ears so thick with disfigured silence so that I wished I was born deaf.
I am the lighthouse man and my mind is a spinning fragment
    my eyes can merely follow and my floating steps merely trail.

It never changes tone here, I can only vaguely trace the time
By the occasional moon. Tonight it shines half chewed,
  Befitting the levelled star a sideways crown.
It is beautiful but I mustn't stop to admire, lest a survivor
Scavenger loses patience withholding the last of their scran.

I am the lighthouse man and I haven't eaten in years.

I am the lighthouse man and I bled for the first time yestardy.
I am the lighthouse man and my bulb ricocheted off the base of my skull
In a telling fairy tale dream. I felt static in my head
And my light's ink spilled across my hands and for a minute I thought
My light had gone out. I tasted blood,
Trickled down from my stinging nose and I had never been so scared.

I am the lighthouse man and I never knew I could die.

I am the lighthouse man. Once the world danced with magic and I was
A walking satellite that grew to want to dissapear.
I am the lighthouse man and my decrepitude is casted in my hands:
Black as the night from the dirt collected over the years.
The few slashes of skin clear enough to see look rust-like and obtrusive, outdone only by
My veins like wonky bruises that vine across the silhouetted bone;
Bridging gear to gear, clinking shivering knuckles
         That want nothing more than to surrender.

But I am only frostbit, not frozen.
Life was and thus must still be.
I am a raindrop, not the whole ocean.

I am a walking lighthouse inspecting and guiding empty seas,
A form without virtue
That ceased feeling it's metallic steps too long ago to recall.
A cubist teardrop falling down a grey giant's cheek,
Waiting to be captured and swallowed.

Or perhaps I am climbing uphill, slowly along the circumference of his forehead.
So slowly I cannot notice the rise. Perhaps I was destined to amble in hypnosis,
En route on this colourless limboid curve until I forget the concept of
             a destination, a soul, a matryr jester to rouse me awake...
             and perhaps it is then that I will be blessed with the heavenly bulb

Of the weeping giant on whom's flesh I disturb.
I am the lighthouse man and I dream of purpose.

I am the the lighthouse man with a penchant to levitate
I am the lighthouse man and I am a God without tool or reason.
I am the lighthouse man and I'll walk this limbo until my feet dissapear.

I am the lighthouse man and I am cursed.
I am the lighthouse man transitioning between lives and never knowing
Causality nor the answer. There are no questions to have;

I am the lighthouse man and I must have been a murderer in my past life.
I am the lighthouse man and I can feel my inner fuses twist,
Falling fainter and fainter by the second.
I am the lighthouse man and I will not make it another night.
I am the lighthouse man and I am a memory-bank full of nothing remarkable.
If I felt this months ago then perhaps I would make do with the my sojourn of an empty house, atop a parked car, and perhaps I would be content with rotting.

But now the moon shines so luminously bright and full and close! So very close!
I am the lighthouse man and I chase the moon.
I am the lighthouse man and I vaguely recall my mother saying 'do not eat the moon,
It will give you nightmares!’ and it all suddenly makes sense now.

The stars are all out tonight and they await my company. I am the lighthouse man and now I run.
I run run run run for the sky in ode to the rest of the bodies that abandoned this place.

in the middle of the dark dreary night, i sigh and remembered our fondness flight. you were my sun who brought light into my cold and lifeless night. and i was your moon seeing that no matter what i do my life will always revolve around you.

you were my light who tauten up the day and make the bad go away. you showed me your gleam in my gloomy hour and soothed my soul. you shone too bright consequently my skin reddened and blistered. the pain came out on what was just proposed to be good. in spite of that, the wounds eventually healed and you continued to light my way in this world.

as the time passed by you continued painting the starry night sky into a bright blue sky. you died every night just to let me breathe and live the night. i know it makes no sense but the two of us were lost in the past. reminiscing our wounds,  the agony grew bigger and deeper. as we revolved around our range, we were alone in our voyage.

you were my sun that showered the hills with orange, yellow light and waking everything up and i was your moon who couldn't never reached your light for it was fiery illuminated. your light had gotten dimmer in my eyes up until the raging fire that i had once felt for you— shrunk and diminished.

in the middle of the dark dreary night, i looked back on our enchantment. it was a fate when we met but our time were hard to catch and our days never match. as i was the moon dancing with the stars glowingly and luminously, our lips met softly. just like an eclipse, our love created darkness. while hours felt like minutes, it was enough. whilst it was just a short period of time, it was all worthwhile. you were my sun and i was your moon and we were never supposed to collide, but now we coexist as one. and when the time was gone, we drifted apart. tell me, how am i ever supposed to forget the one that illuminates me?

This brown buff speckled throstle of a bird sits in the higher most branches of a yet to be leafed poplar tree . . . and sings. Such a song in the April morning air it greets the day, celebrates the rising sun. Above a suburban street the bird’s song catches the reverberation of a double row of houses, their windows bouncing sonic reflections of unaccompanied melismata.
 
Olivier Messiaen loved this bird for its répétition égale. Walking the mountain woods around his summer home he would wonder that the grive musicienne could make so exactly repetition after repetition of a complex phrase. A proto-minimalist perhaps? The male mistle thrush appears in several ***** works but most prominently in Saint Francois d'Assis singing luminously on the clarinet.
 
Although this is the ungregarious male singing away on this spring morning his name carries a female designation Turdus Philomelos. Poor Philomel, whose name means one who loved song, she was a princess of Athens lusted after by King Tereus who took her to a cottage in distant woods and ***** her. Then, he cut out her tongue.
 
Vengeful Philomel alone in the woods, but a most resourceful and artistic young woman, she set about weaving a tapestry that told all.
 
‘She set up a Tracian loom
And wove on a white fabric scarlet symbols
That told in detail what had happened to her.’
 
She sent the finished piece to Tereus who promptly ordered Philomel's death and that of her sisters (one of whom he was married to). As the girls were about to be slain they were changed magically into three birds . .
 
Joanna Laurens play The Three Birds takes the only fragment we have of Sophocles telling of this strange tale. Laurens is both musician and linguist and the text is a marvel of strange sounds and rhythms as the sisters communicate with each other in their personal private language akin, it is said, to Jersiese, an ancient Breton dialect.
 
So thank you dear song thrush for this morning's wonder: a song *sans pariel.

To the moon and back you professed. But…..
The Crescent moons edge drains me as it pierces my flesh.
To the moon and back you pledged. Only….
The new moon is heavy now, smothering, as it presses down on my chest.
To the moon and back you alleged. Except….
The full moons beam blinds me as it steals my fight .
Luminously I am led to my emotional death….
I love you to the moon and back, he said

In the East, the sun luminously gleamed
And bid the nebulous vapors fly
Changing the gloom into radiant blaze
Cheering the languid drowsy sky

Lying in bed, I looked around,
Saw my room so cozily set
With things just enough to make it fit
For a sweet haven for me to rest

Each little thing in it began to muse
In a language discernible for me to grasp
Of the secret of success so elusive to man
Which striving to catch, oft slips off his clasp

The clock ticking away at the wall
Alerted in a tone of rhythmic resonance
That ‘each minute is precious and dear’
And not to waste it in trifling appurtenance

While the ceiling fan, spiraling above
Discreetly hummed, “Be cool and do not fret”
The open window, to me did urge
To ‘look out far and watch the world in beat’

The mirror neatly fitted on my bureau
With a gleaming countenance beckoned me
Asking me to ‘reflect’, ere venturing into anything
That from fatal fallacies, I shall ever be free

The calendar hanging inside the room
Reminded me not to lag or put off things
But keep my assignments and learning up to date
That to great heights, I can soar on wings

And the woolly carpet gently mused;
“Bend your knees and kneel down to pray
With a heart copiously filled in gratitude
Before a God who didn’t leave you aimless to stray"

With such counsel, silent and salient
Got out of my bed with resolutions profound
To greet the morning and start the day
In greater zest with a mind, saner and sound

With your satiny hairs,
You amble without a normal foot.
But with a pristine look,
Your big eyes shines luminously.
Dear, Maybe people call you a handicap,
I call those bullocks a madcap.
Interestingly, what, I am a handicap mentally, here I reveal.
Everyday I fight inside the close door when night falls.
A few days ago your eyes have cried a lot,
Let me clear here, you are a daring person.
It gives me a reason to fight with his servants openly.
You are a bizarre, I don't know you Monica Sharma.
Though we did not shook our hands at all,
But whenever these eyes squints you,
A new story creates a History...

thank you for signing in
in between the signs

thank you for leaving space
luminously empty

thank you for listening
to the masterpiece
of silence

thank you for quoting quantum leaps
while twirling the hairs on my chest

thank you for choosing
azure and the network of spring
so emphatically

thank you for collecting
the echoes of a single dewdrop
with the presence of a child

thank you for creating
miracles and bubbles:
360°
thank you for breathing
flashy ******* passionately

thank you for your interstellar
plexus and your solar torus

dewdrop glass, thy name

thank you for wordplaying
magnifying fiery patterns


(dewdrop glass, 2017
christian sonnenklar)

Dusty old and gray
Always either spinning or perfectly still
It creaks when it spins
Like the bones of an elderly woman  
One bulb is almost burnt out flickering on and off
Wanting the motivation to stay alive but losing it anyway
Losing it,
Losing it,
and now this bulb has run out of light
Now encompassed in darkness
Two bulbs remain shining so luminously Optimistic like they’ll never burn out
unknowing the impending darkness to come
that they are unable to pause
unable to slow
unable to stop
I’ve never seen a ceiling fan and it’s bulbs like this before

Serenity of the Buddha fountain
graces our garden
His wise presence flows
steadily over thorns, thistle
and rocks that jut across the pathway
creating obstacles in our lives

There was turmoil, misery,
calamity in His generation
just like today
The Ravanas of our time
prowl earth’s gardens
seeking to abduct and ravage
goodness, love, purity, truth

Illustrious Gautama gained the perfect
peace that passeth understanding
by treading the middle path and realizing
that pushing the envelope
indulging in all types of extreme behavior
sabotages our mental, emotional and physical
well being

He declared to His disciples as they
wandered through the world that
desire is the cause of all suffering
and like the Master Jesus encouraged them
“to be in the world not of it”
This He knew could be actualized by
the right use of the senses,
loving, compassionate service to mankind
and having a still, tranquil mind
through the process of
meditation

Twilight dusk blankets the garden
The Buddha twinkling under a
panorama of evening stars
a crystal ball spinning luminously
in his hands
illumines our beaten path
from His radiant pedestal,
beneath the Bodhi tree
“The Sun of Enlightenment Shines”

Imagine
You're an adorable dolphin
Your cute fin!
You're ecstatic about watery
Corals
And
Aquamarine
You sport and swiftly swim
And swim
You dance with the white horses
You sing in the tempest


Imagine
You're the lovely hyacinth
You enhance
The elegance
Of a gorgeous
Garden
Your evocative
Perfume
Is mind-blowing!


Imagine
You're a sweet skylark
Your pleasant tone is
Magically melodious


Imagine
You're the silvery rain
You remove the pain
Of the heat of the sun


Imagine
You're the splendid
Rainbow
You feel a glow
Of colour
You've the VIBGYOR
You are
Never
Evanescent


Imagine
You're the
Breeze
You blow nicely
You're more
Than invisibility


Imagine
You're the lamplight
The djinn
And obscurity
Fear you
You're luminously bright!


Imagine
You are
FARAH TASKIN!!!;)
You own
The evergreen
Realm of fancy!:)

you quickly quipped cunning comments
in the skinniest jeans west of the mississippi
sighing softly then,
glancing to the left to keep an eye on the spider
scurrying on the wall.

you emerged triumphantly
luminously translucent
like a goddess of the noon sun

your eyes skipped mine in a beat
seconds behind my own
and with the final say from your fist
the walls began to fall

and outside, the small southwestern suburb
watches with fascination as the spider skids away.

Just as over the course
of a year, the seasons change,
inevitably, over the course
of life, a woman's body will change.

The photoshopped
supermodel on the cover
of a fashion magazine
is an 'ideal' that does not exist.

While the allure of
youth & vitality cannot
be denied, neither can
the appreciation for time & experience.

It's the honorable path
walked by
all maidens
& matriarchs.

A path that comes with
blemishes,
cellulite,
scars & stretchmarks.

Wrapped
in every
shape,
size & skin color.

Yet, it's these so-called
'imperfections'
that render her
fascinating & unique.

A paragon of feminal
physique, so luminously
patterned &
intrinsically beautiful.

"Everyone quiet now."

A rose petal floats through the air
so effortlessly
Always reaching the ground
too quickly

Is it falling
or does it scamper away?

Is it living
or not worth the attention?

Beautiful mystery,
the most lovely thing
to mind or mention.

Frightening discovery
the most lending thing
to tension

"And ugly as sin!"

Yet still heard are bird songs...

"everyone quiet now"

Listen to the wind blow
Feel it kiss and caress your face
Watch flowers bloom

"Out of toxic waste!"

"everyone quiet now"

...
The grass ascends from the ground
Each delicate blade touched by the sun

"Profound! Like worms in the mud!"

"everyone quiet now"

"Hear this, pay stark attention with respect
it may save your life some dark day-inflect"

The sun glistens through all clouds
seeming to envelop the sky
Shining through any darkness
That can and will
Relentlessly devour
Consume all in its path

"Like the leaves on a tree from a mother giraffe!"

"everyone quiet now. This is important."*

Look back to the sky
Sparkling luminously
Ever at day
Ever at night
Powers and magic
Beyond any vast imagination
And you at its core with every sensation
to reveal this much and more, provide inspiration

Those wise stars twinkled so luminously, I looked over into your eyes thinking all the answers could be found in their depths.
I wouldn't call it pathetic maybe just hopeful and naive with a tinge of foolishness. Intellectual depth was mistaken for insightfulness and the spark I thought I saw in your eyes was nothing but a dull, passionless blown out star.
The ocean breeze, salty air and Piña coladas tend to make you drastically romanticize everything (especially that hideous necklace that looked nothing like Something I would've worn).
That last night I had to beg you to stay up with me watching the Florida coast line come into view. The outline of the whole state was visible and that was when I realized I really ******* love my life. I looked over at you and you were half asleep.
Different priorities, different mind set, different ideals .You were a bland key-lime pie while I was a red velvet cake. I, Rich with prosperity and thoughts and you were content with the life I dreaded seeing myself stuck in.
Hey, if a a big house on a lake with a dog and a boat is your thing, go for it. I strive to not follow in my parents footsteps.
The day we ended I went down to Davis island where we always used to sit. The carnival cruise ship was leaving. I watched it sail all the way out into the horizon, the warm thought of you went with it.

I was there
standing at the corner
it was dark,cold and smells
I was there
being laughed,scolded
judged and ignored
cuts and suicidal are in mind
but something stopped them
and left them behind
I saw a light
luminously coming towards me
I put a step behind cause I'm afraid
that it would influenced me
Then there was a hand
I grabbed it
It was warm and cozy
It changed my life
feels like the Spring is coming early
And the hand was HOPE.


a.b

majestic sounds that fill the ear
luminously engraved as
the bass harmonizes with
melodies in my mind
as the piano croons a humble tune
coating the whispers in my ear
as the drums build up to perfect synchronization
wishing I could hold it so near
the heart of the synths enrapture me
catching me in the web of love
crocheted in a melodic fantasy
I close my eyes
as I enjoy the ride
letting the strings subside
I fantasize in this melodic bliss
who knew heaven could feel like this?
as I walk along the tones of bridges
building up to a world unknown
it is the sweetest thing I’ve ever known
like the tenderness of honeydew
the rhythms of love speak to you
so sweet yet so tempting
the trumpets tower over me
leaving me selfless
giving myself endlessly

.. her stained hands clasps
..a dab of makeup felt stainless
.. fabulous touchup we must say
She: ... believed in alone
Distantly from this polluted star
Distance from the captivity
Distances are farthest away
When pain is the experience
Plenty of space in her heart for distinctivness where it does the gravity pulls us apart where does the sea stop in a sky warped.. distinct creativity and cultivating luminously as does the creature
He comfronts her well-being devotedly to her charisma she sang and wonderfully blessed in a toughness that vowed himself a creature a creative man in a way a bit certainly known to be that simple touch

...certainty
....dismantle the serinity into you
.. dismemberment
. remember you're honor
CREATURE of the Night.. stare at her as if it were impossible with those crystalized steerling chimney smoked eyes whimpering at her witherment;
Either way he's a creature she'd think about along
.in the ending
.. designed for each-other
...part or take from hand to life

Start
Creature
Run but don't be afraid
After-all

After-hours: if we close the door the night could last forever

~Classy that everything we have is gone and all that we need stands strong and all that we haven't gotten stays simply strange enough to remain a creature

After-life; If you close your heart your death could remain a mystery but the creature in your soul makes it up; the creature in your system messed-up ..  PM:

CLOSED;

Clouds are closing in on me like a volture just like a big giant reluctant egale  ;Creature! Type of thing that the evilness couldn't find.

From the darkness comes forth creation. A brilliant display of multi-colored ideas splashed against the page. Wonderfully contrasting against the eternal night locked inside.

From the breathless void comes forth eternity.  The swirling rainbow of forever paints the tranquil sky.  Luminously capturing the essence of yesterday's undisclosed promise.

From the apex of the world comes forth the voice.  A harmonious melody that speaks of universal truths.   Harkening back to a time before the land was illuminated by the golden light.

May the penumbra of your green eyes ogling gently,
You have left me with this secret in my soul,
May I recount to you an image of you before me?
Jollity as of a magnificent art painting of innocence,

There you were susurrated in reciting a canticle,
Acute feelings in my heart as the respite end,
As you spoke the words spiraled over your tongue,
Radiates over your lips I am laced in your rapture,

Your eyes are my guide to stay always by your side,
This love will never be replaced I’m born to love you,
I shall pirouette a tale for you of star studded loves,
I suspire for you my love for you is perpetually yours,

My love for you I have found your smile is my light,
Wreathed like a web of intensely yearning desire,
As warm as the west winds blow with sunsets heat,
Blossomed in canticles as it breaks into an eruption,

As we cling closer before a festive ligature of flames,
Inebriated with our own artistic designs of pure love,
I embark as a sail into virtuous commonage of our desires,
I shall commune to you in all silence in all passion,

Luminously bright and pure as a star lit night,
Reticence with halcyon moments of our passions”
                              By AG 05/10 2018 ©

there lies no
certainty on
what is waiting
for me on the
other side of
the moon

whether i will
be greeted
by the stars
i've been
trying to grasp
with my bare hands
or a meteor
that will
collide with
my fragile
body and turn
me into a
speck of dust
in the galaxy

either way
like an astronaut
wandering in
the space
who tries to
seek the void
and mysteries
of the universe

i will never
let gravity
pull my weight
down as i reach
towards where
you shine
luminously

Rise,
You told me,
From that cold horizon of slumber I so often fall beneath.
I feel myself cooling
Down
Until I am just ready to collapse, thoughts becoming denser by the second,
Thoughts flying through the darkness with no sense or purpose, too far from their source to return home.
Instead they are joined to you in all you vastness,
You in all your gravity that can be felt from across the universe,
Hell, from across the room,
And suddenly the image is not so blurry.
You rise,
And so I must follow, though the sheets may plead me not to go. The coldness is swept away with the dust, my own personal nebula floating, waiting until it can form once more above my pillow.
Yet there you are again,
Luminously patient, bringing the warmth back to my bones.
And I, in all my atrociousness, bend back your ear with the woes of the evening. How numb I have become. Letting the birds of sorrow nest in my hair and demanding no rent. How dreadful I have been, losing my way in the abysmal labyrinth of my mind while you were gone. And through it all, there you are
Smiling,
Not believing for a moment that you are the center of my orbit, my reason.
And so I rise each morning, letting your warmth become my own.
I can stand tall at noon, my shadow behind and not within me.
I will fight to return home at night, afraid of what that world holds. But as things rise,
They must fall,
Only to be resurrected by the daylight.
This you remind me as you tuck me into bed, my atoms all in place, my mind at rest, as you whisper softly in my ear:
“You are like a book that I could never finish”.

There is such a thing
as
the Hollywood Blonde
They all seem to know one another
Each one thinks that
They
Alone
are the most sublime
The most inspirational
The Musiest

Like Water Nymphs
They form their group instinctively
The Hollywood Blonde
And if you are a Brunette, say
Or Chinese
I know one and she has the most magnificent *******
Nevertheless
Irregardless
the facts
The husband and the house
The hotels and private jets
Know
Know that those Hollywood Blondes will do a lot of stuff
Without you dear one
“Sorry” they will shrug
They swim
And dine
And gather together
Luminously
And will let you know
after The Fact
Even movies
Or just returning phone calls

Why do they form the horde?
Perhaps they really are genetically special.
Why do they pride themselves in their isolation?
A mystery still.
Courtesan?
Geisha?
Cheerleader?
Mystery Side-Piece?
Wife?
Ex-wife?
Widow?
Oh yes.
Is it an unknowable path that they are on?
A hero’s quest in a bottle of peroxide?
Applied every three weeks.
I’d like to think so.
I wish that they would share what they know.

But we already know.
A mind is not necessary
although helpful
Chic? No. You can wear anything.
A steady, warrantied beauty?
No
No just hair
the color of wheat
Or a corn tortilla
It’s never spun gold
No matter
What you’ve read.

36
18
33
Are Barbie’s measurements
Can you imagine the pressure.
When the lines appear and it’s over?

Before my birth there was infinite time,
after my death there is inexhaustible time.
I never thought of it before:
I’d been living luminously between two eternities of darkness.

If you could
I know you would smile
It's time for your misery and anguish to perish
Your numbered days have reached their end
The wax has melted
The flame has lost its warmth and radiance
Just like the color of your skin
And your cold and shriveled
Empty body
That has finally admitted defeat
After fighting
since a horrendously long time
It has finally gained an everlasting sleep
Just a few more moments
promise it won't take long
I know It must be ruthlessly dark out there
But you'll soon find light
Cause these rites and rituals are on there last leg
the piles of cherry wood
Caging your essence
are about to be kindled in a minute
And I'm not going anywhere
Till I collect your remains with my hands
And place them on the sparkling surface
Of the placid waters of the Holy river
Under a hazy sky
beautifully illuminated by Twilight
I'll look above
And smile back to the brightest star
Shining luminously
As it enters the realms of heavenly delight

She is the swiftly rising Aurora
Shining luminously
Her splendid beauty is magnetic
a sight to behold
Her brilliance illuminates the depths of stygian dark
Her eyes burn like blazing summer
Like the leaping flames of bonfire
Their radiance makes you tremble
As you involuntarily shiver
She is all pervading
The mighty sun finds shelter between her  brows
Shaped like sharp polished spears
The crescent moon is tangled in her sable flowing hair
She sleeps in a silken blanket stitched with the Stars
She is everywhere
Over the cerulean seas
Between the Opal skies
Upon the fertile valleys
Above the folded mountains
She has always been there
Always will be
She is the epitome of eternity
She is
The Goddess

I believed it wholeheartedly
When you used to say
That I was like honey
Soft smooth and sweet
Glistening like the amber shafts
That coruscated upon your tanned skin
When you yawned turned and moaned in your sleep
Before opening your caramel brown eyes
And uttering my name
from those dusty red slightly chapped lips
Without any reason
Just like you breathe or blink
And my eyes would sparkle
With a rapturous delight
Just like that empty glass bottle
Near your windowsill
That shone resplendently
When the sun smiled and winked at it
Or the wisps of grey misty clouds
That wandered despondently
But glowed luminously
When the scattered light of an aureate moon
Caressed them tenderly
You were the radiance
That engulfed the stygian darkness
Bleeding from my heart
Suffusing my veins
You were the vibrant spring
That restored my shattered pieces
sealed them with an undying warmth
And watched me replenish
As I bloomed from a withering bud
To the most exquisite flower
When your unconditional love
Percolated through my dead roots
But a blunder you committed
For you made me believe
That this happiness that you gifted me
Would never ever recede
it diminished and vanished
At that agonizing moment
when you left my side
And entered inside the gates of heaven
Now you don't seem to hear my cry
My tear ducts have long dried
My throat stings
I can barely speak
My skin is swollen and ruddy
Covered in bruises that don't seem to heal
My wrists are scarred
My lips crack and bleed
My complexion has turned sallow
And i believe wholeheartedly
That im not like honey anymore