it was dusk when you slalomed
through what would be the last snowfall.
heavily ladened,
your feet were on fire; your mouth
was a tavern of secrets.
as you walked, i saw nothing but the snow melting
beneath your feet
like a river.
it was heavenly. i tasted the water in my mouth;
tasting you like tea, suspended.
unendingly beautiful.
three days before pentecost
was when you died.
no matter how many nights i spent rolling stones away,
your memories-- like bones-- were always left in place,
in peace.
i tried recreating dreams, painting on canvas
and expressing what i was feeling; as if even i
could understand.
my breath was a prism in those days,
a myriad of colour.
i lost interest in the spirit, then.
my body was hijacked.
my years were regrettably alone.
i'm waiting, still, for your
return, you know.
i'm waiting for this fog to leave
a stain of promise
on my heart.
one
etched with your
soul.
Adding your comment:
It's Czech, meaning "skull rainbow."
