When She Speaks...

He always knew it would end this way...
But he stares into the sun anyway when grasping
For that which he can not reach.
A rote rehearsed a thousand time
As thoughtful words are spoken through
Clenched teeth.
"Please let this time be the last."
And yet, every time he spreads his wings,
The sun calls to him, it's voice so sweet,
Like honey siphoned through rationales which
Make consequence look like collateral damage
at worst.
She sounds so comforting when she speaks of trust,
Which is why the deceit stings when he is burned,
And he can hear her whisper,
"Be my everything..."
And there's nothing he'd rather be.

His decent from heaven is cushioned on a bed of
Daggers, feathers, doubt, and the remnants of mirth.
He can not see clearly through these blinds, but
He knows that mirrors never lie when they speak,
And his eyes speak only monotones of gray.
Who will hear them if not him.

Beyond the horizon, the serpent never sleeps,
He finds it moves with in his dreams, repeating her every word:
"Be my everything..."
And there's nothing he'd rather be.
Deprived of respite, he never wakes,
Walking in his dreams,
And dreaming when he walks.
His burdens follow him impossibly like a shadow in the sun,
And his eyes, closed shut, start blending his night and his day
Into an incongruous effigy of perception.
"I can't be your everything," he speaks,
Not conscious when the words leave his lips,
And surprised by the sudden defiance of convention.
"The bruises brought by my indiscretion are not worth"
"The fantasy you portray, and"
"The words you say are like static on the ears"
"Of a court in jesters in their frivolity."
And he claims he can not bare the weight.
Reconciling his need to feel inadequate,
He decides the fruits he has born are not to be conceded for free.
She can no longer pay in batted eyes and serpent speak.
Like vinegar's dripping from her teeth, her words no longer taste so sweet.

But still, every time he spreads his wings,
And tries to touch what he can not reach,
Blinded by the sun, he hears her speak:
"Be my everything..."
And there's nothing he'd rather be.


SO I wrote this a while ago to play with mixing poetry and prose in the same piece. I have to say, I still like this one. Some of the metaphors are really on point, anyway, Hope you liked it.