fractured fairy tale, delusion, Life, Uncategorized

Bedtime Story

He was the one that never was but could have been,
if life and fate intersected much earlier on, though she was
different then and he wasn’t ready yet.
In her mangled version of forever,
the fairy tale dies in the end.
So she drinks her crimson silk, regret growing distant as the
setting sun while
time pours out the tears of ages upon Eden’s arid plains.
Her phantasm slips away between sanguine drops irrigating the
bed of roses under which her favorite secrets lie.

She tilts her head back and laughs as a screeching eagle dives, keen
eyes absorbing the last lights of day.
His outstretched talons stab at madness carrying off the fallacies
of an early spring.
Her knighted horse had wings, she muses, skeletal as the
morning fog.
He rode on whispered tears doling out fantastic smiles,
none of which he saved for her as she danced amid delusion in
the scarlet morning sun.

They lived encircling this odd stupor carving out sorrow and
indifference,
their flaccid kisses scorching opportunity,
unearthing tomorrow’s promises with clumsy, nearsighted flaws.
Now she sits in her perpetual creation envying the eagle’s
sight.

Her fairy tale is laid to rest with the fading streaks of dusk,
not at peace nor with her thoughts but where all broken things must go.
Plucking a rose she pierces her supple flesh
marking the end of foolish days, the epitaph of her fantasies.

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Life, nature

Mexico

On a windy day in paradise
Brilliant, crystalline waves fracture over protective rock walls
Breaking their striated pattern of azure, amethyst, sapphire and turquoise,
Vast, unbroken expanses spanning the edge of the horizon, amazing in their diversity jammed against one another, converging only when the waves meet the earth.

Enthralled, I gaze upon the ocean while the sun warms my back easing all tension from my sinew, smoothing my skin and relaxing my thoughts.
I have found my solace from contrived perfection and acceptable desire.
My paradise on a windy day is unconventional.

Sea spray sweeps across my face cooling the unnatural glow left by the persistent, tropical sun whose golden rays tear through gray storm clouds and push their light to the end of the world igniting the depths of my soul.
I stare out onto a sea of unbroken thought, tumultuous waves unfurling upon the shore, lapping away temporary imprints of missteps and misconceptions, my understanding rising with the tide.

Slight and stubborn, self-assured, I stand steadfast, pressed headlong against the winds.
They whip and scatter my unruly curls with force matched only by my abandon.
Shedding all pretenses, stripped bare and alone,
I taste the dried salt upon my lips offering me deliverance from an artificially perfumed existence, my skin hydrated and smooth in this sticky, sweet air of truth.

I indulge the jeweled waters of my spirit and ease into the clarity of crystal waves then dive lithe and swift challenging their fluidity, alive within their smooth, familiar touch.
As I surface to take a breath my once windswept hair lies smooth and still as the cool, briny air whips my back.

Resolute on sand and silt, I stand, tranquil and contented.
I abandon explorations of the deep and relinquish myself to Mexican sun.
Returning to my vigil, newly awakened, I watch the warm delicate rays reflect my image in the lustrous plains of the glistening sea.

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