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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