Color me, black and blue indigo to taste you, like falling into grey. You leave in shade and the pain is straight like razor blades, soft like bruises. Your eyes are ghosts, elegant and blue as an abyss of cold oceans.

Her hand is suspended without sanctuary as she waits for you to hold her, but your weight is heavy, almost unbearable. You live in her like a plague.

I lay in the dark drinking woozy feelings and the memories of  holy water, I had beheld beauty looking through  stained glass windows in the hands of god. I woke in the dark weak and vague like smoke, without a form and without fear in the devil, with a belief in nothing but myself.

Look, before I say anything in blinking fluorescent lights without incandescent words his lips illuminated in this symbolic light.

I will be flesh and spirit. I have vowed to remain and come back in body and power. in ash and fire. I closed my eyes, beautifully ordinary, yet reawakened, reclaimed, reborn.

Sort of hidden, the walls in my room are a birch tree. I am in its limbs. As I lie in bed, I feel guilty like a church in the suburbs. We are sleeping heavenly through life.

She doesn’t notice me surrounded by art projects. She just stares and her bones laugh like when fairies dance.

She’d wait until dark, her saints and angels to guide her. She thought again of the fire and magics nestled in pillows. With a sigh, she longed for sleep or a gentle death.