Sunday, December 27, 2015

Maps of You...

Frazzled hair, tingling wounds,
Smeared mascara, burning heat.
The desert wind snickers slowly,
wipes away, the traces of her feet.

She hums an old forgotten tune,
heat waves sketch a familiar face.
“I knew you’d come to take me home,
darling, let’s never leave this place.”

The moon pulls in, a shiver runs over.
Rushing, she chases the dying light.
Rays slip through, her hair and fingers,
only cold reflection to stay the night.

She awaits the storm, to bring her reason,
a battle to fight, to pass the day.
Her stomach growls, her vision fades,
each day she sees lesser of his face.

Days fade to black, sands turn to seas,
gravity releases her, accepting defeat.
The battle walks away from an unworthy opponent,
she turns to find no steps to retreat.

“Is this death?” She waits with arms wide open
but never rises into the sky.
She has always been a half written song,
suspended in the dying light.