Literature
dreamer
by all the gods,
is she lovely—
the sweetest lullaby i have ever heard.
and her fingertips soothe this raging nightmare
which roars inside, a decaying dragon
that one too many knights have slain.
if i could worship at her feet i would.
alas,
her temple is guarded by pale clouds and
a witch's moonlight; only ravens
may find their way into her tower
and break her chains with a featherweight kiss.
i do not feel her embrace every time the darkness whispers.
no, it is only when the ice in my veins
burns hotter than the sun and my voice is lost
in the supernova that hides itself behind a black hole.
it is only then that she is there,