Dear Shadow

Oh, dark twin of my shadow—you boldly leapt into my airway,
severed oxygen to my senses, blood to my buoyancy—And I,
I allowed my precious honour to crumble upon your dinner plate—
"It was nobody's fault."—I keep chiming my teeth with the same strain.
When will it harmonize with the prelude? Looping, grating,
deep within the lost void of all our sultry shame.

We're both born of beauty—Can you see it through the clouded glass?
A mirror of you, my blushing illness layed—with your pale face in dismay,
glassy-eyed like a sour apple, sweetening with the aging of four seasons—
I believe in you like I finally trust my petal skin and quenched leaf.
All the days, my premonition saw more than our folly film of tears.

Oh, dearest who was never really mine—I now declare,
how the black days break off behind me like icicles into powder snow—
And you're still a lightly aching pinch of denigration.
And you're still a stinging pink salt—Grainy, sharp, erratic.
But so was I love, so was I...

The light that's left is barred up and ocean spans away.
We're now safe from the art of crashing blades—Double-ended agony—
You'll pen mamour along the plains of her keen flesh in the night.
And I'll play a new Andante—If you quiet down some day, you'll hear it too.
It springs choirs of blossom from the earth—my garden of refuge,
where refusal has become a honeyed song of soft liberty.

Oh, deep dark man of a masked hour,
I am love in you, I am love in me—spilling out into the sweeping drift of sea—
You'll not get to swim within the broad Pacific I am meant to be
or recline upon a cocooned bed of the winged thing I have become—
Without your lovely and your limerence—
Without your shadow still casting calamity upon me.