Curving

July 3, 08

Butterfly dust wafts softer than the sun tears,
Evaporating from the leaking heat of skin.
Lithe movements freeze as a still shot even after-
The gravity bows down to her movements again.

Imagery flows into prominent to fading colours,
Black and white until the flowers weep again,
And spill the secrets of life into the rivers and lakes,
To spread the shades among the stars and eyes.

Then with coming bruises upon the very core,
The very bottom of her soul she caves in again,
Fades her imaginary to the pitch of black and white,
And bends her knees to sleep upon the ground.

Flowers wilt and the creeks stop flowing,
Shadows send tendrils around her battered limbs,
The chilling comfort of night surrounds her tears,
And echoes offer the conversations she desires.

~And Until The Clock Strikes Twelve~

All for more like one time seen in a blink of an eye,
And though the bottom of her soles may bleed red,
It never hurts as she dances among the burnt leaves,
For eternity of time she has eternity