air grows (thin)

I am shedding my own old skin, leaving trails, gaping holes for the light to shine in.
Surrounding what is left of this old world. Watching as the planet too leaves itself behind.
Only the rhythms escape in, draw out the harmonies. Reach in. Everything empty. Cloudy.
Can’t see. The gulf collides.
I love and miss and everything in between.
In my sanest moments I’m convinced this was a dream.
Nothing more
or less.
I find the gulf between us and fall. Air grows thin.
Our connection was ice and
Falling out of bliss. Torn asunder.
So carry me away. Find me a new place.
For here I lie in state beneath miles of ice. An old ocean. Where silver goes to die.
Frozen and wasted. Numb
and can’t feel.

(Remember that day?
I would give anything to have held you tighter.)

But at the end —

Awashed in glow.

New, tender, raw thought. Spring from crossed hands.
Leaves curl.
Tendrils gasp.
A fresh heart. My sun. Every ray beats. Once, twice. It hurts. It burns. Alive.
Breath deep and smile over and over again.
How could I ever say these dreams were empty?

(It’s not over.)

Beneath lonesome skies, I stand. Icy waves churn on. Receding waters burn blood red under dark suns.
Beneath a longest moon.

On grey boats, I feel them drown me.
Or try to. All my hopes from long ago, before that day —
they swim to surface. Stare me in the face. Red eyes. Sleepless crying.

But I know what a sea does not.
We have shed our skins.
Black tide dances, deep and frozen. But I have seen life.
Bleak and grey beneath paper skies.
Hearts burn.
Lungs collapse.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s