November's Rain
I can see you, up there, in the clouds and the night and the beautiful emptiness of the world.
I saw you, drawn across the sky and bunched between storm clouds,
Your brow furrowed in the turbulent black puffs
Falling over each other in a hungry search for breathing room.
Trapped in the deep orange of sunset and the violet of sunrise
Plumed your shallow, suffocating breaths
While the sky heaved its chest and bellowed.
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The world mourned between flashes of lightning.
It screamed, low and loud, for the loss of something intangible;
The little raindrops that plopped to my forehead, perhaps,
Or the small deaths of drowning worms and insects seeking refuge.
It could weep for those losses, the painless euthanasia of great life.
Nothing abstract about the butterfly drowned by the holes in her wings.
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The clouds wept until they dissolved into little more than
Unpleasant dreams and vapours,
Leaving the sky a dark mess of sparkling lights.
Grey eyes twinkled next to the comets blazing their slow glory
Across the vast empire of endless black.
You were there, in the stories gobbled up by the stars.
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Unmoving. Beautiful. Serene.
And so achingly empty the marrow of my bones yearned
For a single touch from that feral stretch of grey above me,
A single press of my lips to the shadows slipping over the moon.
May I dip into your craters?
Pull mysteries from the impact wounds long forgotten,
Untouched by the caress of honey sunlight?
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I will beg, if you let me, to dream inside the caverns of your soul,
Kiss the broken branches in your bleeding heart and trace the shoreline of your eyes
As water laps at their edges and tumbles down the cliffs,
The hard angles of your grief, into my open hands.
Let me live inside your stormcloud eyes
And sleep in the brilliant, blinding light of your moon.
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-Silver Serpent Books
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About the Creator
Silver Daux
Shadowed souls, cursed magic, poetry that tangles itself in your soul and yanks out the ugly darkness from within. Maybe there's something broken in me, but it's in you too.
Ah, also:
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