I gave away my mind last night for
a soothing memory: a body, warm
against mine. Drizzles of honeyed rain, nacreous
clouds, and sun-sweetened wrists sifting through
shafts of lambency, buoying me through a
luminous delusion, an endless, sleepless night;
wherein I am a sailboat, bobbing
on the phantom touch of a glowing dawn;
wherein the moon cries quietly, a lonely
lover, plucking pale pearls of hope into my mouth;
wherein salt clings darkly to my sheets and
I have been waiting for solace for too long.
Maybe I am only chasing echoes, scattered
like milky magnolias in the midnight wind that
holds no sound, no darling love, merely
the cold surface of starless puddles
and lone melodies within an azure sky that I
harmonize with, awake and unaccompanied.
Maybe I have been yearning for softness in
pools of brittle shadow and wee hours that bruise
beneath my eyes like ripe plum skins. But
only the poignant silence of moonlight can bare
the ache of a beautiful love gone past, held
open in my tired mind like tender hands interlocked:
golden until sunrise, missing something warm.