Our Interrupted Story
The rhapsody of duskfall’s sky pulses in
irregular beats tonight ,as I gaze at dotted stars
fleeting beyond this moment absent from,
nonchalant about a life of earthly radiance…
and summer’s flame caresses my body
tingling clinging invading a certain quietus
where my very soul weeps for your touch
ghostly or vaporous , as I fold the last pile
of clothes from the attic: the musk scent
wafts around me, like a glide of a river
fathomless like single immersed dive
into an unknown eternity where your passing
rakes my seasons-- hour after hour.
How the madness of twilight snuffs
your dulcet breath vicious and abrupt,
that my heart pines for owned laughter,
for gentle walks in the park: In the attic,
my hands quiver from aloneness--
because there is no longer a story to
transport us to unlimited coffee dips
in the finely-spun of mornings, gone.
3/21/2018
Broken Wings’ Contest: Five Words, Please
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2018
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