I watched through the frame of my bedroom window
as flaming streaks of pink and peach glittered on the horizon,
as dusk fell,
leaving thick brushstrokes of blue grey clouds
into the blur of night.
Tears rolled down my cheeks as I watched,
the result of inevitable mourning
that my heart should not indulge.
But I am unapologetically alive
and love to vent
my real feelings
You always tasted like bitter herbs, sharp and arresting on the tongue.
A shock like plunging into a cold bath on a warm day.
I grew to crave the bitterness,
the rough contrast.
You entered my veins like a poison
and changed the pattern
of my blood.
You became a sickness,
that knew no cure.
I was bedridden, addicted, pathological,
helplessly stricken with
Tonight I cry myself to sleep,
a soothing gesture.
In my dreams I know I will see your embattled visages
and their complexly interwoven threads,
turning like a kaleidoscope
through the various stages of my inner landscape,
tumbling, moving, shifting,
like shells do
at the bottom of the ocean.
Then morning will come
and paint the sky again.