My Evening Star


She’s eternal summer amongst snow, a blue line pulsing somewhere below skin; if she tipped her head back a little more, offered her neck, you’d see it. The animal’s claim her and she’s all ocean in her walk, but to him she’s sparks and nebula, the evening star maybe. And her, well she’d make the forest their bed while searching for what it is that makes her only want to breathe around him.

At night, as they drink, time crashes into stars splintering their sides and covering the world in their fragments. She tells him it’s not snow, it’s stardust and the animals know the difference. You can tell by the way light changes as you stand still.

These two are the dreamers; those who close their eyes and reach for what they feel while animals sing to rivers, mountains and everything else that makes the universe vibrate until you…

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2 replies »

  1. Whilst the piece as a whole is really well written and as spectacular as always, ‘she’s all ocean in her walk’ conjures a beautiful image that remains with me after reading.

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