Slide Show Skies

He was haunted by a diminuendo
that would not fall;
a pristine face casting shadows
onto shadows.

Under a slide show sky
they sat on foreign doorsteps,
always anxious to escape,
reverberating their demise

in due time. He would ask
for his pink lighter back
while she slipped it behind
her to provoke a flirty

charade. She spoke of how
she wanted to get out,
leave everything behind,
and he would placate her delusion,

throwing gasoline onto the fire.
And inside he was growing old,
as the slides faded with age.
A wistful echo of unfinshed resolve.

Early Morning Reflections

Picture credited to mygloriouslybustednose

I long to brush away
sun sutured red hair,
to trace dots
on unsheathed shoulders,

to kiss a bare blade,
and hear a soft sigh
or breathless intake of air.
As morning comes I would awake

still dreaming, a carnival
blurr, like early morning
reflections across the lake;
I crave to finger beneath,

to move aside a tangled mess
and reveal eyes that stare back,
unimpeded and full of sleep.
I yearn to move closer, palm

cradling cheek, nose to nose,
to breathe in breath
and finally feel the heat—
to rest in the moment of a dream.

Without End

Broken and disaffected
I lay naked, unearthed,
bathed and battered
to be abandoned
from abandonment.

Displaced hatred misplaced
and erased form my congenital
bonds—molecular structure fused
with a fuse
so someday they may scatter.

Identity is an idea
for the demiurge, born without,
I lay naked, and wasted,
awaiting to be awoke,
or finally rest asunder.