The sun sets, crimson gold

Fading into burberry black,

A gorgeous canvas of watercolors

The sight is miraculous,

But could be dashed

With just a stroke,

Colors breaking and bleeding

Into an indistinguishable mess

The combination is much

Like you and me,

The gleam between us

It is beautiful, but feeble

Just a fleeting dream

For the hope that snuck away,

For all the pain you saw,

For the promises broken apart,

In the fading of daylight,

I humbly apologize

The scene arranges itself

Like a cherub heavy breathing, in a rage,

Ripping away a cottony cloud.

An increasing madness shimmers,

Held pendentive, simmers back,

Is hung,

And as fast vanishes;

She keeps her head erected, meditated

In such softly spiraling hair, fair glimmerers...

Open the luminous mind of your third-eye enchanted,

everything you've seen and understood-

They would say to you: "leave us your wishes-

'luctor et emergo,'

"Leave us your dreams, and fire..."

The subterranean rose that holds infinity

Makes all the Heavens weep,

Makes them want to die.

The beaters of your heart are knavish;

Their power of mastering ambulant passages of true effulgence,

True tri-powered light

like the apotelesma of Sirius

Inara;

I am shining on your light, born of fire;

ambush of atmosphere.

Always I think of your eyes

seeking the captive throne

behind the veil;

Within your sunrise silhouette,

beckoning for better things,

Summoning your fantasies sed non satiata,

Lusting for jagged fashion in her enterings.

I feel them lustre in nocturnal silk,

And I know this is how your body tastes,

My dark goddess,

How your sensual form embraces me,

Seducing my lips to kiss your abdomen,

Here,

on your sweet rondure,

'lux aeterna' dreams and endless shores

in the reflection of your eyes on mine;

And I'm breathlessly weak by soft vision,

Reflecting the sun’s radiant meira.

Your eyes: I love to watch them watch ephemeral beauty from balance

And sure death.

The Poetic- once and for all;

because

soon the cerulean ceiling of Heaven will fall,

But your beauty, as my Muse, will keep my words

Cascading with the waters of your constellation,

Until all the best has fallen,

and we all become crest-fallen.

“Oh, what a beautiful baby girl.”

I don’t quite remember that one, but I’m sure someone said it. I’m sure you’ve said it to some new mother proudly beaming while holding what appears to be a second cousin to ET or one of the shrunken heads in the science experiment kit you used to have once upon a time. Hey, everyone loves babies. I get it.

“What a lovely young lady you’re becoming.”

Said at various stages of development when the mirror lets you know quite clearly that you will never be on the cover of any magazine except perhaps Dermatology Today. And that the paper bag over the head joke is not at all funny because you’ve contemplated wearing one more than once.

“You sang so beautifully.”

I couldn’t remember the words although I had known every one before Ms. Ross took my hand to sing with her on stage. And I couldn’t sing one note in tune though she provided me with every line.

“Why are they lying to me?” my seven-year old embarrassed, miserable-self asked my mother. She just smiled and said something like, “Oh honey,” and gave my shoulder a squeeze as we exited the theater, smiling at all the well-wishers who recognized the lucky kid who couldn’t sing to save her life.

“I’ll be your best friend,” said the ten-year old girl who was always mean but was suddenly saccharine sweet…eying the bag of candy I had bought at the corner store with my allowance. I gave her a piece as I replied, “No, you won’t.”

“I won’t tell anyone. I swear,” said minutes before everyone in the school knows your secret crush.

“I promise,” said for the umpteenth time while you sit with shoulders hunched, phone to your ear, your mom looking on pityingly, knowing your dad is not going to show. Again.

“I’m not seeing anyone,” he insists but then you see him kiss the pretty blonde between classes.

“I called you.” Funny, my phone never rang.

“I was thinking about calling you.” That’s nice. Yeah, I was thinking about calling you, too. And then I did.

“I was going to call you.” And then you forgot?

“I love you.” I love you, too.