A pale evening of misplaced fog
and dark green thoughts;
hollow cheeks, a slender stand,
and the aversion
of lake-cold hands.
"Trust him."
A billowing helm of lavender,
and the torn leather binding
of hidden finds.
Reverberating... fetid... anguished air,
and the dividing connection
of two minds.
A statue softened by snow,
the stolen frame from below.
The gentle glow of her silver doe,
and the defeat of his first foe.
The finality of endings,
ash-swept faces and feelings.
The multitude of beginnings,
star-speckled rain and ceilings.
"You lie."
A frozen mask,
immobile eyes.
"I regret it."
Trembling hands
that fail at last sight.
The flaw. The feigner.
The thief in flight.
A whimper, a scream,
an erupting fight.
A silver pool of lifehood,
a shadowed forest lure.
The dragging cloak whisper,
a heap of midnight fur.
"No!"
An altered face,
a paper warning;
the silent chase,
a riddle mourning.
Golden matchsticks
beneath a gleaming sky,
a reflected fragment
of blue.
The fallen phoenix
and an aching sigh,
the emptiness of what
he knew.
"I thought he
would come."
A black clockwork
of running steps,
a serpent chamber
of darkest hue.
The victory of night-
drowned depths,
cruel laughter of
expressive rue.
"I expected
him to come."
A grave of chess pieces,
a jar of bluebell flame;
a frosted mirror of ice,
a caster with no name.
A weeping silenced child,
a stretching cavern of lies;
from lake to the wild,
a cold smile of pride.
"You'll stay
with me?"
Two pale figures
under faint night's dome;
he wished to leave -
yet this was his home.
A livid flash of
hot pulsing light -
the snowy corners of
a mountain's height.
"Until the
very end."
The inexplicable
last blazing look,
the river ink of
a swallowed book.
Misty eyes of pronounced
wonder and grieving stairs;
from fierce to crimson,
from shadowed to fair.
"You've been
so brave."
YOU ARE READING
Someone Like Me {Poetry}
PoetryWith power there come words. And with words there comes music. And with music there comes joy. And that's why I write poetry.
