Fever and Fuss
- August 17 -
the lights go spinning out
and burst, casting flakes of
their glow to drape over all,
bits and parts of filaments
and glass waft down slowly
to hang lightly on shoulders,
supple and bare,
the quietly pulse
and fade to be but gone
until they are,
simply because I imagine that if
light could behave like people
should, and sometimes do,
there would be almost
none, for all the new
would be yearning and clamoring
to burst like they watched
the former do, and that
all love would always
take place in the ever-shifting
dusklight;
around the corner,
always waiting,
never reaching,
a permanent dusk.
-
fruitionblog likes this
-
feverandfuss posted this
