Clutching at love like it doesn’t exist. In a world of inhumanity, salvation is all there is to cling to. The ones who make you happy. The lover that gets under your skin and into your heart. Close the curtains and embrace her. Let the war go on, let the bombs drop invisibly behind closed doors. There’s no war in me anymore. I’ve moved far beyond the realms of such tedious banality. My mind is adrift, floating the oceans like wreckage. In the air as autumn leaves fall to the ground, the ghosts of yesterday cling to me like I cling to her. Eyes alive and wide, she looks out the window to where I am across the sky. It’s dark out, but soon it will be light. Just like the light that’s burning inside. The one I keep just for her, for all that she is.
The fragments of my history fail me. The footsteps I’ve walked no longer there. My fate awaits covered in scars and buried deep at sea. Lifting the veil, I take her by the hand and show her the things that await us. Symbolic and ritualistic, my love is pure as snow. Admiring her dress, I lay her down upon the glass ceiling and together we merge as the world turns ever on. Outside is all there ever is. Apart is what drives us, what inspires us to excel. Not confined to the constraints of the sane, my imagination flourishes. There are no walls where I am, for the walls have long been destroyed. Everything is within my grasp. All levels of madness and love are mine for the taking like never before.
“I’ve never painted an angel like you”
Curled into a ball, that’s just what she looks like. All her fears out of reach, she looks so peaceful when she sleeps. There’s nothing to bother her, nothing to pick away at her mind. Clipped wings are nowhere to be seen. Only innocence and beauty. Brushing her hair, my fingers catch the scent that glows upon her head. Oranges and vanilla. This is what she tastes like, from her mouth to her hands and the contours of her neck that shine in sunlight.
Crippled by crows, the days come and go. She’s out there somewhere, sighing to the heavens as I circle around not knowing which way to take. Eating fruit and walking through the woods, I’m searching for the meaning of an idea. My novel is waiting, pollinating as the weather steadily gets warmer. When it rains, I’m taken back to the womb. It comforts me, blankets me against the sadness that I struggle to overcome. Unable to breathe, I’m digging nails into flesh as the traffic lights in town refuse to let me pass. All those roads that have yet to be walked. All those words of love that overflow, just begging to be told. Sitting in the bath as the evening draws close, the breeze that blows through the window talks to me about the nature of her ways. The desire that courses through her veins. Disappearing beneath the surface, my bones dissolve leaving me shapeless. And that’s what we all are in our souls. Shapeless cages of pain and wonder. Everything is wonder, from the horrifying to the sublime. From her smile to the insects that roam the streets at night. Crashing planes occupy my mind, bodies that reek of extinction. That had so many secrets left to tell.
“Don’t let the days escape”
Don’t let them slip from my grasp when there’s still so much left to say, when the fire in my belly has so much left to give.