darkness embraced me.
Burning, burning all that I held dear.
Sweet, the suffocating sensuality
that turns the skin to peeling apathy.
Then back to the mists.
Where nothing is clear.
While an overlapping of veneer
begins to join the pieces back together.
A heaviness lies 'neath the feathering.
We sleep at night in dreams
we can't remember.
A residue of stardust leaks
from weary, waking eyes.
The veils that we live behind
draw closely shut again.
As another chilly winter wind arises.
Isolating structures in a snow-struck fantasy.
White on white. We drift. We freeze.
This feels too real for make-believe.
Still we sift through the drifts
of man's waking disease.
Back to the mists of healing again...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2005 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .