i parted my lips instinctively and waited
for the caustic wail to fall into the sky,
and carry with it, my breath and whispering demons.
but there was no sound,
only colors,
and the ghosts remained as
harsh and shadowed as the shades of
indigo, maroon, and navy
that tumbled into the night. with two paralyzed eyes, i traced its unearthly mist
for anything to disprove my undeniable solitude.
my vision rippled into waves of tangible sound,
and my eyes collapsed,
eyelashes zipped closed, to discourage the premature emotion
from emancipating itself along my cheeks.
the stars seemed endless to my quivering legs,
the way they turned their faces away, one by one
without a backward step or side glance of uncertainty.
and i wished they could find it within themselves
to pretend that i was worth such hesitation.
and slowly, branching beneath my skin, i felt
the words.
each syllable, unpeeled and bulging
with practiced audacity.
ravishing my soul and seperating the walls of my arteries,
like a quiet flame held beneath an old poem.
.
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