UNVEILED IN STARDUST AND SHADOW

 

UNVEILED IN STARDUST AND SHADOW

You’ve been learning me lately,

unraveling the threads

over these stretching months,

more and more

of the fractured mosaic

that is me—

pieces once locked

in iron compartments,

or draped

in shimmering facades,

polished masks

of tinsel and glass,

gleaming under

false chandelier light.

Now, stripped bare,

I stand before you,

a raw constellation,

too uncensored,

too jagged

for the soft edges

of comfort’s embrace.  

Having seen me now,

from every angle—

a kaleidoscope turned

in your trembling hands,

each facet

a shard of unfiltered truth—

I catch a new expression

etched across your face,

unfamiliar as

a stranger’s shadow

cast by a waning moon.

It dances there,

a cipher

I cannot decode,

its lines

a map

I’ve yet to navigate,

a dialect

of glances

and silences

I strain to translate.  

I know, with certainty,

at least in part,

it’s a look

of wanting to believe

in my poetry—

words I weave,

sweet as honey

dripping from a comb,

genuine as

the pulse beneath my skin,

sincere as

a vow whispered

to the night,

sprinkled over you

like stardust

from a crumbling galaxy.

Portions of you

yearn to fall,

to leap

from skyscraper heights,

a plummet

through the ether,

fearless,

into the cradle

of my outstretched arms,

a sanctuary

woven from

the threads of my voice.  

Yet, there’s a contradiction

carved in your face—

that subtle arch

of your eyebrows,

a bridge suspended

over a chasm of doubt,

mixed with noises