billyfivecrows

(moonwater)

A glance of identity, the pretty one,
Turned inside out, a neccesity
When laughter sleeps into

Morning more soundly than
A morgue dreaming short bursts
Of soul. It's good to see you

This way, delivering sun
Through the ingestion of shade.
Love me if you will, you will.

A reliable fragrance is a risk.
An absolute metaphor is a
Refusal of design, uncomplicated,

A dialog of an eye with an eye
That is permission to distrust
The selection of a threatened

Fantasy. There are kind words;
Each lens only speaks to
Itself as a challenge to

The bloodshot public of memory.
It's getting cold out. I bundle
The blue scenery into chance

And wait.

*

Sometimes, like starlight,
We're married into chambers
Of lost silver. (A promise

Is a slow souvenir, not an
Innocence of liberty.) To
Shine in sterling forbearance

Is slightly a fire, slightly
Falling in love with the first
Star unpacked from a pretty box,

As the aura of the somnolent syllable

Is sipped over kind word.





from: [energy]