Much have I traveled in the realms of gold,
Soaking burnt beams into fragile skin.
I move away, tarnished back to white copper,
Damaged beneath the weight of reverse alchemy.
Wet air and thick breath steal at the rose tones
And pull spearmint from the grey.
On cool, southern evenings
I stand beneath the jarring invisibility of the past.
Late November, come around.
I will soak in saltwater
And allow myself shatter against ocean’s impossible.
Separate hearts will drum through numbered days between us;
Caged compartments of wild want
Will not stand until tomorrow.
Adding your comment: