so darkly beautiful in the approach,
elegant strings hovering softly,
rippling through the still night air.
I hear endless messages in the dissonance.
I think of snowfall caught in your hair,
moonlight glistening in silken strands,
eyes aglow with some forlorn memory
that ebbs away as your hand slips into mine.
It’s not so wrong to have met here,
in winter’s bittersweet ballads
that cannot promise a tomorrow
yet refuse to say goodbye.
There is something so haunting
so amaranthine in a chord plucked,
in strings lingering soft sweet notes
to ripple through us before touching.
I endlessly relive anticipation in the dissonance.
I think of undercurrents breaking our stillness,
of your hips swaying to our wordless song
where I’m all the other notes fluttering in between,
swelling in and out of the music to join you.
It’s not so wrong to be entwined here,
in winter’s achingly slow build and release,
in summer’s unquelled fevers meeting,
refusing to depart from curious skin.
It’s the sound of fire illuminating us,
gently cupping your face as we kiss,
our song hummed beneath all sounds,
the melody of a nameless phantom pain.
I endlessly relive your lips in the dissonance.
I think of every time will be made,
not the simmering mutual climb,
not the explosions that seem to come
like a star’s final violent shimmer,
but the calm ocean we’re adrift
inside of in the joined aftermath.
I think of how you whispering my name
is merely the tease of a sweet coda,
an intimate fade out inscribing itself
beneath the skin before surging anew.
There is something so haunting
that lives inside of every note,
never promising us a tomorrow
but always refusing to say goodbye.
I feel endless love encircling the dissonance.
