Through it all

I’ve befriended these corners and gripped onto time, comfortably content with the ghosts in my broken nights, like hollow frames without their unspoken canvases. Within those walls, I’ve let my charcoal pin dance to the sounds of your devious poison that put you in a tragic trance , the vibratos of your cackles and joyful glances. How you took my empty lungs on a ride of jubilance, how bruises and blood became souvenirs of resilience, softening the barbs and shortening my tolerance. You’ve shown me how humor is a forsaken brilliance. In your arms and in your heart, every sunrise became ecstatic art. I wonder if you could still see, through the surreal skies and chaotic clouds, how everything you’ve left in me beams in a sea of crowds. Your smile was my lesson in molding mercy, and the snort that came after was my sanctuary. I wonder how many feathered fairies seek you to make their day, leaving them breathless with nothing left to say. One day, we shall meet again, when I’m buried by a fleet of birth-bound men, through the magical doorway beneath a six-foot hole. On that day, we shall gather our dancing coals.