Impressions Of Being Alive

Her toes trembled;
curled,and fumbled-
the moss was brumal
yet softened, fused
...with fallen dewdrops...

The leaves bowed,
and quivered;
their cyan shadows, voltaic;
resting upon her cheekbones,
-unresistingly, quietly.

...and the sunset kissed her lips-once more,
before adieu.

But she didn't know
...yet.

Moonlight was not as kind,
the shadows were wild,
the wind cold, and stagnant,
the voices shrill;
and laughing.

... twilight had lost it's innocence, already;
glaring, and weakening-now,
like the frightening burden
of a spotlight.

So I held her,
and she knew then,
I was there-
always.

But she didn't understand;
...even when I told her
I love her;

She was dearest,
yet she didn't listen,
she was mine,
she had to know.


So I told her.
And left those impressions, of being alive,
Of being-
Her master.


Her toes trembled;
curled,and fumbled- and stopped;
the moss was brumal
yet softened, fused
...with fallen dewdrops...
and inklings of blood.