Patina's Purples

Remember-
Under the light of dusk,
when our eyes are quiet;
wordless, we watched
pink crests crowning purple clouds
passing by on the pale canvas sky...
Grey grabs all with its notes
taking the lead
.

“I want to see a new color,” she said-

I remember, “but there are none left.” 

Instead

Imagine a new blend, a color made from none of these

I pretend it cannot be seen, but better felt-
inside closed eyes

like blue

or a red
Aura

“A new hue,

another shade made of you.”

“I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror,” 
she confessed.

You ripen while you rest. 

And thus this innocent request

was bestowed.

A complimentary color, 
a gradual gradient 
evaporated and echoing
the tone of dawn

a radiant hinge on the fringe
of the rainbows wheel
angles ajar
prismatic and enigmatic.

Image By Anonymous [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. Flammarion Woodcut, c. 1888.

After Sunset

The night falls

heavy in its hours.

Afraid of the dark

Corners,

of your mind.

Fear what you may find

alone,

in the space between you-

and vast nothing.

Openly suffocating,

in periwinkle dusk

rapt in a blanket of night.

You fall asleep-

You fell in love-

I fell for it-

Burglars in the eerie in-between

steal abandoned hearts

and crawl with malice.

Lovers steal

glances and tears

that fall

guilty like night.

In hazy dark cities,

lights blur through salty tears.

Among busy streets

wander empty years

sound of safe, shhh-

alee-whispering wind,

silence is golden.

For in memories and sunsets,

cast behind you,

lingering in the shadows,

of loneliness-

loudest

at the fall of night.

Image credit: By Jon Sullivan [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons