Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Crystal Lining


He is now dead
In such a way
She is dead to him

A testament of loves
Obliterated like a newly caught fish
Guts spilled out like a pregnant belly
Swollen with perished affection and
Scented with spoiled possibilities

His hands emptier than a sheep's eye socket
Or the crust of a planet
Scorched by a star
One ear bursting with pussy willows
The other oozing infection hot with fever

Her paws will never again prey upon his heart
And her beak will not chirp into his ocean
No matter how many sunrises he may see
Never will it be as beautiful as passing them up with her

The cinnamon dusted foam
Contains nothing but stars
Sparks turn the welkin from blue to gray and back
He tastes the sea on her breath and the copper coils
But nevermore will wings and paws collide





--Eden Cook



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