DESPITE THE PROMISE OF THE GLOAMING
I don’t fear the apocalypse
I fear that my daydreams
will never burst open
like the newborn mouths of sun-nursing violets
on the first day of spring.
I don’t fear darkness
I fear that
another pair of drowsy feet
will never search for mine again
in the plumy valley
of the fallen nighttime duvet.
I don’t fear storms
I fear being battered by solitude
I don’t fear the truth
I fear the person who will expose me to it
I don’t fear aging
I fear its consequences.
which will turn me
in the alchemy of time
from a hard pelting rain
into a sad-eyed mist
which will catapult my soul
despite the promise of the gloaming
far,
far
away
to sleep
beneath the headstones of stars
that glow
with a soft, tremulous light
like I did
seconds after
I kissed you
for the very first time.
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