Kaleidoscope Eyes
August 30th, 2008, 03:25 PM
We are standing facing each other;
fingers reaching, curling into the others’
through the emotion that coats the air,
thick and sweet as golden honey
Naught meets our ears but the resonance of two hearts;
a rhythm like wingbeats, fluttering anxiously skyward
Drunk, on nectar thoughts and marble words
gossamer strands enshroud our bodies like corpses
and whisk us away,
lost to the world
Blind to all but the living flame which guides us,
blazing coolly, until we are moved
spinning, spiraling, pulling at these delicious bonds
like puppet-strings which direct our dance
of wolf and rabbit;
of predator and prey;
of controller and controlled
Such sweet triumph in being conquered
and neither would ask it to end
Steadily, too soon, we begin to notice stars,
blue-white, sprinkled overhead
as our gauzy blanket slowly fades
letting in the world once more
And we are left, both grateful for and resentful of
the knife which cuts us from our strings
to set us gently upon the ground
Our heartbeat now, no longer fluttering
but thrumming, loudly, like a steady engine
as we stand, motionless, neither yet used to our freedom,
until bit by bit our fingers stretch out,
lacing through the others’
and curling closed.
Any con-crit is appreciated, I'm always willing to improve my work. :)
fingers reaching, curling into the others’
through the emotion that coats the air,
thick and sweet as golden honey
Naught meets our ears but the resonance of two hearts;
a rhythm like wingbeats, fluttering anxiously skyward
Drunk, on nectar thoughts and marble words
gossamer strands enshroud our bodies like corpses
and whisk us away,
lost to the world
Blind to all but the living flame which guides us,
blazing coolly, until we are moved
spinning, spiraling, pulling at these delicious bonds
like puppet-strings which direct our dance
of wolf and rabbit;
of predator and prey;
of controller and controlled
Such sweet triumph in being conquered
and neither would ask it to end
Steadily, too soon, we begin to notice stars,
blue-white, sprinkled overhead
as our gauzy blanket slowly fades
letting in the world once more
And we are left, both grateful for and resentful of
the knife which cuts us from our strings
to set us gently upon the ground
Our heartbeat now, no longer fluttering
but thrumming, loudly, like a steady engine
as we stand, motionless, neither yet used to our freedom,
until bit by bit our fingers stretch out,
lacing through the others’
and curling closed.
Any con-crit is appreciated, I'm always willing to improve my work. :)