[ pâro - 1: ] shifting world
You look in his eyes as though
they could tell you who he is, as though
you could see through the film
of misty-dusky-shadowed white
that clouds them, as though you
would not be blinded by the electric-
lightning-storm-fire-ocean-glass
blue behind them.
I open my mouth
and I speak to you and let me tell you
this now: he cannot be bound.
Living or dead his eyes were stars
once, before they fell, plumetting
from sun-lit skies as angels do in
disgrace; but their light survives,
and lives on, and day by night it
refuses to dim. Two pinpricks
of jewel-light, their surface scratched
and tarnished beyond repair, full
of strange veins that resemble the
unpatterned cracks in a sheet of ice
just mere seconds before it shatters
into infinity and oblivion.
He had the kind of voice that would
grate against your very soul, and pull
you towards him, towards his soul
and his mind and his will; and
even as you try to fight back and
tell yourself to close your ears
to his soothing caresses of hollow
promises you are falling and you fall
into his trap and you become his.
The looking-glass had a smooth surface
that he would disturb, every once
in a while, by dipping his long fingers in
and skimming across ths surface of it.
And the sun warmed his skin and burned
on his dark hair, but his eyes never left
the white rock ahead.
a/n:
for round 1 of "pâro", a poetry contest by wildsorrows
first place. i can't even.
YOU ARE READING
Ephemeral Obscurity
Poetry❝I have never been myself as much as I have with you and all these words.❞ A beginner's attempt at poetry, exploring a few different forms and voices while trying to convey loss and beauty. Organized alphabetically, so feel free to read in what...
