In My Language

And there it ends my days as I began it. In the truth, the lies, and the auguries of my existence. And if I were to be written amongst the stars on a blade of glass, and the tiresome dwellers of my world became a memory, where should I find myself upon the dogs bowl and the shine of your shoes? My skin fades and peels like the tobacco leaves, and in the blink of an eye, I flame like wild flowers. But if only in life am I to find the doctor’s prescriptions, like the words that fall on death and are as delicately beautiful as the wings of a moth, then exile the scribe and fall in hate with the muse. To find dust on an almond blossom, bitter is the rind and sweet is the clock. Fall like snow and rise like mist. A caricature of the wind, unattainable perch in the nest amongst the cosmos. Define me as you will.

Reviews

[Lia]

I LOVE this poem. It's beautiful beyond words. The flow and imagery are amazing. Great work!