There are no such things as broken hearts, or mourning for some defunct days of ecstasy, or remembered kisses, or pining for that which now lies gaping and missing. There are today these….billions of hearts suffering through the lack of love. Let us avow in this quiet endeavour, remove the hard cloaks of what we are to the world and be the night’s warm comforting arms to each other.
I’m stifled by the odour and the smog, the filth and decay, the strain of bills that must be paid, the intervening days that fall between you and me. I rush through it all – to get back to you. It won’t come soon. But Night brings quiet; a fragrant darkness falls upon the land. I smell the sweetness in the centre of all things. I am but a blur…I am one with the birches, the birds, the flowers, the garlands of wild butterflies. I don’t know why, except it happens each time I make my way back to you. Night is the dawn of you and me
I lie awake….eyes searching for the light. The sun bleeds in through the blinds, to the White painted walls. Birdsong fills my heart…This most ephemeral day. I breathe in the scents of flowers and think of you, and how Those bridges blaze again in my mind. But Chemtrails, and boom, and Muffled television noise, The heavy sounds of time Seep deep into the soil. I arise…to live…to find the remnants of my life.
It was sort of a good day. There were no cops, so I pressed 80, Drowned my ears in fast and happy music, drove far, far away from there – the storm ravaged destruction, the uprooted nights, the vista of shards and broken roofs: receptacles of pain and falling angry rain…splinter-filled hearts, and deceit.
I can’t remember if there were stars, or if moonlight fell softly upon the leaves. I was…blind to the spectacle but not the spectre of a loveless night. I wanted again those guarantees that once lived in my heart. But the night exudes ill its breath and returned to me an ocean of scents: the flowers and trees. I awake expectant from this dark tomb of the sky, for pain and joy are but flips of the same coin.
Last night the wall between time and forgotten memories melted away, and like magic you were there in my arms. It was in that waiting age of innocence and juvenile depravity, the brooding quiet before the storm, the quiet hunger that you stirred in my veins. But as you plied me with sweet confessions of your own, and I pounced to sink my feral teeth, again – again you vanished away.
Eyes of indifference and ennui, What would it take to light your fire? Cast not wide your heart, for at your feet nimble and ready I am waiting. Won’t you let me be your spark?