You slip through my fingers,
a lover rushed to dress

Scurry down those stairs.
Hide from everyone but me.

You are my secret
marred by time
that angles
and edges
and shapes perspective.

You are the rain on my window,
yet not.

Your black clouds corrode my vision.
I gasp as humid air catches my lungs,
holds them in its embrace.

Such a vice…

You are the devil in my details I wish to ignore.
Red that bleeds through my skin.
Heat that burns my eyes,
my ears,
my throat.

You are the ship I pretend does not sail.
Head into the storm
Let the bow creak and lightening light my hair
Illuminate the surface waves in sudden bursts.

You are the desire that creates the wind,
brings me comfort…

How creative you are,
you illusion of mine…

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