By Tyler Wills
Days spin into your days, immersing me in the deafening din
of the subtle whisper of your voice.
My hours blend with your hours, time moving in
scatterbrain spider web-like directions,
and the manner in which you sway in abstract curves
evokes patience within me to await your movements
To align with mine.
Though I sit still in my vigil
as I watch your memory float across my eyes
fluidly with no distinct destination,
I am crawling from the folds of my skin
Our histories bond in chaotic brokenness,
connecting then disconnecting
like the warmth of the caress of your fingertips
against my fingertips,
Like the sky of oblivion reflected
in your fragmented sea of beauty,
like your aroma flickering in its intoxicating fragrance
In the dust of the air,
at ease to be touched apart and brought back together
by the collision of our hearts and bodies.
In distress we undress our scars that burn
in the fires of our needs and wants,
we snuff out our flames in vain,
and thus, we are to never be extinguished in the night,
and we are never denied our reunion.
Our stories meet in the middle.
Every story, assembled from pieces, crooked bits of dialogue
braided in a single net of verbal and nonverbal interaction.
My days spin into your days, and when night falls upon me,
I fall asleep with your picture etched on my palm,
your name carved into my eyelids.
It is here, in this moment,
that there is no rest you grant my mind,
for in my recline my broken chest is stone.
From the night, I steal your whisper
suspended from the moon,
I savor the flow of your waters
parting between my blue fingers,
trickling through me and overflowing me
with the waves of your cleansing presence.
I thirst for the tempest of your pulse,
its lips faultless and soft, a gentle touch,
burrowing its way beneath my skin and bones.
Your ghost dissipates in the air,
returns to the hollow enclosure of my beating chest.
It is here that the stars and the sky
cast your shadows on my mask,
making peace with the surrounding black
of what I hide beneath my facade.
It is here that your breath echoes in the silence.
Here, your soul decorated in the pure white radiance
of your grace..
To wait a thousand years for you is an instant
in your arms,
and you resurrect me from the ashes of dead love,
and we are equal in the magnitude of our weaknesses.
I am wide awake only when you are with me,
and I am dreaming forever.
I dream that your lips open to speak…
in doing so you part the heavens
and clear the clouds on the horizons of my passing glances.
In a dream, I am forgotten, abandoned, lost,
and found again in your heartbeat rhythm.
You are loved in your dance within my dreams.
My love, my slumber, the reverie that is your beauty.