No Deserving Title

I'm sitting here
raking over the charred
remains of what used to be
what could be
and who I am.

The choices in my life,
the sparks that drift
into clouded midnight skies,
the consequences,
the smoke that chokes
on a windless eve.

My fire has burned
brightly and strong
for so long into the night,
I don't know what time
it actually is,
my vision and the stars
sit behind a veil of
troubled dreams.

Head on hands
life on a rope
sanity on a ledge
love hiding under a condition

This road just flew up to meet my feet
and suddenly it's like a treadmill
steadily increasing in speed
until I can't run any faster,
my endurance is waining,
my desire to finish is bleeding,
my love hangs on a hello.

All I have to do is pick up the phone.

© Justin Frieberg, All rights reserved

And The Rain Fell...

Looking aside in wonder,
a pause for breath
stolen by her delicacy.

:: whispers in the moonlight ::

Staring, searching,
for her mysterious lover
hidden in the caliginosity of the night.

:: brushes of velvet in secret ::

Soft ringlets trickling
down alabaster cheeks,
finally cascade onto bare shoulders.

:: translucent dreams in half-sleep ::

Her stare could melt glaciers,
for surely you cannot meet
her firery gaze without consequence.

:: thunder hidden in the hush ::

There is a certain innocence,
an alluring calm echos in her eyes
deep with the wisdom of the ancients.

:: guile hidden in feathery folds of a goddess ::

The world is caught in the rhapsody of her passing,
And The Rain falls in the deafening silence.

© Justin Frieberg, All rights reserved