Every thought strangled
Each hope shattered
Wishes cast into a sky
Too bitterly black
To return them
Where is my chanced
Tomorrow
My dream blurred by
The smudges of
Yesterday’s obligations
I know this is not
Forever
Now is just a piece of sand
In the glass of life
But allow me
My moment
Of disappoint
Because
I long for the winds
Of change
To toss the clutter
Aside
To
Modify this life
And give me
Something new
To dream
I will find the rainbow
Which is precisely
Why I need
To focus
On my
Dark
Sky
The midnight hour gleams with the polished hope of a wistful, wishful girl, gazing at stars that would trace the edges of her magic if they could reach her.
But the window is shut and the curtains drawn. The silly dreams of of an immature mind are dismissed by the must-do’s and not-now’s of responsible adults who know better.
A dismissal she will know many times over, even from those who make promises through vows to cherish and through fingertip kisses and even through toe curling bliss.
That loneliness is a requirement, it seems. A right of passage into the realm of grown ups. Where the glitter of the night sky holds only the magic of sleep and where the moon speaks to no one but the wolves.
But you know the secret, don’t you? The sky isn’t where the magic lies.
It’s not in the clouds or the stars or the moon…
It’s right inside each and every one of us.
And the magic in your heart can only be dismissed if you let it.
I refuse your dismissal, cruel world.
I throw back the defeat of your drapes to glimmer, shine and light up all the darkest corners of the universe, right alongside my stars.
There is no goodnight in that magic. There is no dismissing me.
I could lie here beside you for hours.
Rubbing your neck and back, marking secrets on your skin with my fingertips, giggling and sighing softly when you guessed them, and pulling myself closer to you with each moment.
Eventually my warm body pressed against you, and wrapped around you, could send it’s own magical messages through you.
You could turn to touch my face and stroke my hair, whispering your bliss or gazing into my soul, entranced by my joyful eyes.
I could scratch through your beard, adoringly, until your eyes closed and complete contentment washed over you, leaving the sweetest smile on your lips.
We could make love and revel in it. Marinating in the pleasure of our lust and connection, enveloped in the exquisite perfection of each other.
We could stay in our bubble of passion until life forced our revival.
We could create our world however we want… force life to bend to our creation.
We could talk, dream, or luxuriate in that which only we share.
We could.
Can we?
MelDouleur.com 