by Scarabae
1997 Apr 21

In the shadowed spaces that hover
from inky velvet to shy dusky rose sky-
The sound of my heart a pulsing drum
breath nothing more than thoughtless mist-
I clench the fragile wisp of hope,
crimson promise drips from my palm.

In no sin sleeps beside me
No shadow dance with darkness
She is sure, even without light
Rainbows still glisten and wait.
Kinetic symphony of grace
crash like waves against the jagged face.

How did I come to be
The prism she casts her radiance upon?
Shattered a hail of snowflake crystal edges
Warmed by her smile, melting into one.
The river frothing over the jutting surface of shame
Pouring into the ocean of shifting green/grey eyes.

DANE 4-20-1997

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