C. S.

as if the dark’s were never in your shadows
and even they knew, what it meant to shine,
 
darkly grace in mixtures of ugly, and I
inconditely taste of your beauty,
and struggling to hold on, as demersal things
 
hysterically soaking ideas in the bottom of
oceans, hidden with every bit of you, running
in the depths of me, and the foggy ocean
knew not what to make of us, slowly seas moving
towards pitch black and blue, as time hurried to
agitate the rising of black nights, yet calmly
as feathers, shadows falling upon your smile,

black holes conspired against your light
and you didn’t even dim… I wish never to
win your love, but to be a-part, mixtures
 
like the wind in your hair and the ocean breeze, and although
to you oblivion holds me, to me our whole life re-appears