words

Photo by Jeremy Thomas on Unsplash

Words, 
     these words,
          they fall, heavy,
     hushed in lilac,
          lines scorched across a starless sky.
Parlaying moments into moonbeams,
     these words, 
          they are dust, like us,
the green flash over a tired, tired sea.

These words, 
     these words,
          they are shadows on our feet.
Drawing hidden hearts from stone
     and shallow voices,
          stranded,
 in the day's repose.

Edges soften,
     corners grow dim.
I wish to sing you the morning
     in words, 
these words,
          but they fall,
     heavy,
          like hands full of rain.

I may only hold you in star light,
     clutching oblivion,
          such a small inconvenience.
Like banishing smoke from a flame,
     these words, 
these words,
          they flee.

Teeth pouring ash, 
     denying thirst.
          Dawn rattles sweetly,
     and these words, 
these words,
          they are all that remain.