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93 lines
2.3 KiB
Text
93 lines
2.3 KiB
Text
Luna
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2019-10-26
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***
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a marathon runner, come close to the finish line
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thoughts full of impending victory
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mouth waters for cheap wine
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but the goalposts suddenly sprout feet
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and take up a race of their own
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all the while taunting defeat
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and the other runners catch up to where I scramble
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the goal post flickers back for a moment-
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and I trip, and underfoot I'm trampled
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left in the dust, a bruised and bloody mess
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stumbling forward, ragged beast on last leg
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struggling to regain a semblance
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of what I've lost.
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***
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I wait for you on the street corner
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light just as yellow as the note in my hand
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and as dim as the future of which I'm the owner
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the autumn breeze blows fierce against the bitter night sky
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and the leaves blow around
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vagrants passing by
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and then I see you there.
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a thousand different escapades sworn under the moon
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eyes of all colors, means of all kinds
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but never did I think my time would come so soon
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her hair is down
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a frame the color of her emotions
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a perpetual frown
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she smiles only for me.
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twin magnets, sudden embrace
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familiar scent as I breathe her in
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tongue tied, stumbling through unfamiliar grace
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she merely responds with a smirk and says,
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"here, take my hand.
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I know a way to start again."
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***
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how do you fit a person through a keyhole?
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it's easy, if only you know how.
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you break them down into pieces, strip out their soul
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and slip them in like a whisper, like breathing a sound
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the cords on the raft glisten in the moonlight
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as we tighten them one last time
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abandoning all at the banks, prepared for parents' fright
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I am forever yours, and you are mine
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and we set off down the river Styx
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lie down and watch the leaves on the surface spin
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silver and steady, glimmering Nyx
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consoling us for the mess we've found ourselves in
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forced to choose between tyrannical home
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and exile into the world to foray
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I cast myself out into lands unknown
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because I've decided it's not my time to decay
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***
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the tunnel entrance draws near
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and together we tangle ourselves
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my hand rests close to her ear
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fingertips, soft temple skin underneath
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where I would have gladly worshipped more
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gladly be a heathen
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clammy skin, lips bidding each other goodnight
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a shared pair of lungs, empty in wait for the other side
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we squeeze shut our eyes and pray for welcoming light
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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