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Colored Wings

Time is a bit of a joker;
 
The stale quietness of waiting,
 
Fucking anticipating,
 
What you know can never be.
 
I lived there once.
 
I danced in the cadence of illusion.
 
What I wouldn’t give to traverse your mind.
 
Just let me in.
 
Despite the way I have no bearings,
 
Darling, every inch of you would become
 
The beautiful topography that haunted us
 
Like some mysterious waking dream.
 
I am maddened by its speech.
 
I know it speaks to you, too.
 
I wait for it on the wings of a song
 
That plays in your ears
 
So you’ll know how loudly it lives in me.
 
Fuck time and space,
 
I’m here to exist with you.
 
You burn inside me like a nightless night
 
Where fire blazes above our heads,
 
And we meld together like water
 
Collecting on the floor;
 
Slaves to liquefied desire.
 
It’s just that slight percentage, isn’t it?
 
Is it odd that I can invoke you
 
In my fretful hour upon the stage
 
As I dissolve like clocks
 
Dripping down the wall
 
In a moment that simply was?
 
I am the maiden in the forest.
 
I am the time-traveling florist.
 
I’ll forge my place amongst the stars
 
So you’ll know what pulses in me.
 
As my breath falls short,
 
Allow me to ask something of you:
 
To step outside the fragile shell,
 
Holding us back from explosions
 
Of star-like chaos infusing together.
 
Let me sleep inside the beauty
 
That composes you completely.
 
I’ll dream a dream with you
 
Share some mad idea or two.
 
But for now I am a moth,
 
Waiting, motionless, upon the window screen,
 
Watching the activity constructing units of your time.
 
The open door gives color to my wings.
 
 
 
—SM

(2013)

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