The Same Side

(c) 2011-2012 'Safira B'

We speak to the same moon,
smoky secrets spilling, snaking around
the radius of that grey, misty orb,
ashen wings to caress a glowing soul.

We count the same sky, inky and black,
monotone. Pin-pricks of white light that we
can pretend are hopes or dreams
or I love you’s
or something.

And then we don’t.

Cracking between indulgent gold,
scarlet skies well up and overflow,
blood-red sun dripping
pools of light in your wake;
your steps are wide and sure.

While night floods my room,
pooling around my ankles
like tangled sheets;
midnight shackles
that smother:

I am drowning in them.

Our moons are different, now,
Ashen wings to caress an ashen soul.