Raining In The Darkness
It was raining in the darkness your hand a flower white as painHow I held it like an amulet or sacrament so fervently to my breast
As you whispered tales of strange suns and seas into the canals of the moon
We were walking without clothing under a reign of summer trees
Dancing upon the mind of my tongue the fragrances of your hair and skin
When you turned in
To an image of my lost treasures or a fallen angel complete with a Book of Word
So I held you in the darkness and the rain
Under summer trees as the wind played music through the dreaming leaves
They were murmuring underneath our bones stirring the sea from our beds
Kissing your face, your hand a flower as white as pain
Writing you incantations as you ran from somewhere following you
Came with only a moment, needing nothing but me to explain
A smile, was my touch too careless?
It was raining in the darkness . . .
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
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Written on 2016-02-21 at 23:05
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