Wake

The stars flickered
in the off-black sky.
Sharp edges grating on my nerves,
my head swollen
with pride and contemplation

Which stemmed from love,
or rather scepticism of it.
Which spread it’s thorny branches
and dragged in life and ambition,
replacements for old ideals,

The ones which were slaughtered.
A red-raw sacrifice,
the blood sunk into the earth.
Poisoning the trees
which was just as well

As they bore the scars I didn’t.
Crude declarations from a naïve heart.
There are no traces on me.
I pick-pocketed a unknown feeling
and named it love, as many do,

Out of hope or bemusement.
For a milky rose-hued sky
bewitches the mind and senses.
Until you wake in the early secret hours
with cloying realisation

That it was mere infatuation.
Perceptions built out of salt and sand,
crumbling in water, eroding with little effort.
There’s a beach full of grains, a world full of hearts.
Authenticity lies beyond the horizon.