I Write Poetry

Waking Affair With Nothing But Air


He will kiss the sky goodnight
while singing a sweet lullaby
and tell it that it’s always on his
mind.

When the sky lays down it’s head,
to dream of all the things he’s said,
he will cast himself out of the
hue.

The stars will be the first to see.
The colours here cannot keep,
for all the whims and wishes are now
dead.

The rumblings tides will ebb and flow.
The maiden’s voice will whisper low
of how he loved the sky but never
she.

The gods above will break their sights
so not to hurt their holy pride.
This darkest tale is just too much to
bare.

He harbours this sweet love affair
between he, his dream, and the cold crisp air
as he nestles down beside her in their
bed.

Snow shall fall from endless skies
as to kiss it’s love a fair good night
and chill his blushing bride until she
bleeds.

The grave stone will so aptly read,
“Here lays the bride and greedy deed
Who shall only be conjoined by
Memory.”