To Death

Once upon a time, she caught him, looking
deep into her eyes. He flinched just when
she chose to look right back. A flush rose
to his cheeks as if he'd peeped into a window
late at night, meeting only sizzling silence
whistling through an endless night of day; and
an immensity of vast horizons' ever changing
dreams of ecstasy. She wept, again alone,
just as the sun began to sink into forever.
Knowing not where he might be, yet feeling
every dip and curve his moodiness still swept
him down into.

Antagonistically he kept a vigil, there within
a deep and dank ravine. Overhead the vultures
screamed his name, so tauntingly. Flying spirals,
arching over everything, within a darkness of delight.
Rainbows bridging gaps brought on by too much
getting high. The earth herself surrounds him here,
lying in a womb-like tomb; arms clasped around
himself as if to hold in his own heart with every
moan and sigh.

If only he could scream his self-abasing platitudes
out there into the atmosphere of change. He watched
e'en as a spider on that wall of dirt began to weave
symmetric symbols in this chaos in demise (perhaps
to cast a net, and pull him in, so succulently rare).
Chillingly, the night air weeps its moisture into him.
He wonders where he might have been, if only he'd
come clean. He'd hidden for so long within the indigo
of night; seeking only light as it exploded just like
fireworks in his head, there behind his ever closing
eyes - for opening brought the lightening flashing,
way too fast, too loud and too extreme.

Something ugly lurked within the shadows
of his past; horrendously inviting - so much
more than just obscenity. Nightmares of his
childhood would haunt him in his dreams each
time he tried to close his eyes and sleep. There,
within her loving eyes, he couldn't help but see
himself reflected - for all that he'd become through
all those years of hidden secrecy. Long ago
he thought he had forgiven himself this, until her
loving touch brought every never-ending moment
back into his focus. Not all them were bliss.

Every time he'd kissed her lips, he felt it growing
closer to the surface within him. For there, in
her response, he seemed to find his every answer.
When was it that those pornographic images began
to mix themselves there in his mind, with every time
that they had come to touch? How could he face her,
now that all his feelings were laid bear, exposed upon
the jagged cliffs of all his misery? And so he huddled,
deeper yet into that earthen nature of himself.
As silently, he wished himself to death...

? Michaelette ?

10/20/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...