I catch the Sun in your eyes glisten
brown back at me, your hazel hair
so close but never touching
at night as you fall asleep by the sofa
Build me a palace
It is all inside your mind;
Less reality, more mind.
The last drunken dance of the night-moths,
The last flickering of dawn against the crimson sky,
The final brush of clouds upon ocean eyes,
The hushed breath of silence before it all collapses.
I am bleeding out onto the
canvas of forlorn creation,
I have met the pulsing phases of
motion and anguish;