"The Fifth" by Tori Wynne
I want frozen winter mornings
That cling to the skin and need warming
By fires in places far away
Greek islands with honeyed moons
That hang high in night skies
Complete with golden archers who
Aim for the stars
I wish for quiet company who laughs
Until lying, crying, deaf ears are falling
Empty glasses where wine lingers for
One last kiss, sip, missed
Opportunities that clench the fist
Green with envy of the air slowly exhaled
In former ever ending friendly goodbyes
An enemy’s weapon I pocketed
As water dripped down your torso
Down the stairs, down the street
And out of an uninviting arm
Now only butterfly wings grace my presence
With pleasantries and present dreams
I dream of packed backs traced with fingertips
Not belonging to me. Of chased fates
And praises sung out of key and in rhythm
My innocence is innate but secrets kept silent
Trouble only she who harbors.
Clean, I’m coming, only for one
An outlined image of trying times and pounded
Hours spent running. Breath caught, never
Am I alone, but heart-held solitude knows my
Every curve, every word, spoken gently
Into warmed satin that comforts and caresses
Me in the morning. I own the only morning
My eyelashes will ever greet gladly, until…
Times change, she tells me. Take care of your
Self, hurt, love. Lovely am I to behold
But never held are my wings again,
Longing to fly from Florence to a coast
So blue that only eyes can capture
Only I can hold until knuckles whiten
And cheeks flush pinkish
So much beauty, I touch with hands
Grasped roughly by moons that pass and comfort
My palms crease quickly over an encore presentation.
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