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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