Delirium

All of these words, shattered on the crest of my soul; so long repeated, so long watchful. They cease to exist, and I cease to feel but this aching, drenching boundlessness. Her eyes, dripping golden stalagmites onto her devilish laugh; and she's caught me like a midnight firefly.

If she were a sky, I would fill my lungs with her sweet, pungent wind; and if she were but a drop of rain, crashing on the eternities of rumbling spray, I would choke just to fill my hair with her rhythm.

The more I try to burn this ardor with empty words, the more I am caught in her raven ringlets; a drop of air, unknown and forgotten.

Chase me away, if you can! For she is a dancer, and I just a bird, picking charades in her hair.

Taste these ruben lips; for I will not pretend this is a fairytale. I am no knight wielding a gleaming sword; I am no courageous thief of loves! And you; you are no virginal princess. You have no tender, blossoming tint on the swells of your cheeks, for a long, feverish corrosion has left sickly embers in your eyes.

But kiss me, my dark, murky nymph; for the Gods dance wildly with stellar dreamers.

Forget then, these towers that shield the sun from our eyes! We will be nymphs, swallowed by the tides. I will be your queen, and you my prince, as these waves crash and breathe on the horizon.

But listen, oh Angel: spare me words, for there is just one thing that I will say:  Man is born from the ashes of the stars.