purple mistShadows. Echoes. Husks. Mirages. Mists.

blankets over flawless vision,

wantonly steal over crystal intellect-

soon the light is a distraction, too blinding-

the shadows beckon,

because you find comfort in skirting.

 

When he speaks, you hear a thousand voices in the past,

and your heart breaks even before he makes his intentions known-

when you speak, he doesn’t hear because fear of rebuff mists his eye-sight-

now the wisdom and romance of Solomon elude you both-

because the shadows lengthen-

and your voices and intents have been concealed-

by past burned bridges, scars, and misdemeanors.

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