the hinges of your heart
sprinkles rust like pollen
as the dark wind of your blood
squeezes through its doors
left ajar
my sight sand-blasted
I see deserts
stared at by the sun
for too long
oceans of slow glass
a sea of seals
diving into each other’s
molten bodies
worn away with waking
where you try to excavate
your encrypted heart
I wanted to touch the scars
upon your clawed at chest
is love
the performers
performing for themselves
a slow show
once the wings
of the main show
packed away
instruments played gentle
as injuries
held together
by threadbare threads
my frayed feathers
stroke the sky
from the ground
miss the sea glass
crumbling sunlight
in your eyes
knowing fire
through the smoke
of your songs
the tantrums
of your tenderness
how your steps
slowed
to match mine
the ghost of fireflies
froth from the fractured minds
of the thistles
the burning breeze
flakes the fields
the white of a waterfall
the moon hiding half its face
I write to you
to keep you near me
I don’t think about the thorns
I think about the blackberries
of your love
how they reveal the labyrinths
of my fingerprints
that touches the dark
trying to find your face
you’re the green fronds of fire
that grouts the cobbled back streets of my heart
the bright butterflies still being born
from the braided shadows of brambles
blossom become sentient
your songs shriveling
to scent
silver poplars shiver
with the echo of light
wind gathers in the trees