Becoming

Shades drawn,
You hide in my dark corners,
Safe and sound,
And the sound is silence.

Crawling through an endless sea,
French kisses in the dead of winter,
Eskimo kisses at the height of spring,
Sinking clouds shaped like ships
With the bullets in our eyes.

Come out tonight,
Slip on your skin,
See the sights,
Frescoes in ceiling fans
Someone famous
Might have touched,
Or wax replacements
For vital parts,
Polished hearts and
Lacquered spines.

Be what rests in your blood
And bones,
Let it spill forth
Unto the hearts and spines
Of the lighter folks,
Darken the world and share the beauty
Of a nightly murder and a sense of duty,
The eddying black is not a void
But a warmth so great
No colour could describe the ardor
And woe,
The alluring sorrow of
Your sullen glow
Against the backdrop
Of an asphalt road.

The End

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