Frosted window, what mystery might I see if
I just wiped clear your pane with my virile hand
wiped all the frost from your face with a strong loving touch
would it, could it bring
a sunny summer scene
of lovers beneath the willow tree bright clear skied blue
romancing
in rainbow hued
dream.

Chill set in


When the chill set in
And your words blew cold
My insides tore a little

What froze me most
Was how your words
Seemed so much more brittle

"I love you" was frosted
Given said at all
Those words had been my heat

I'm shivering now
Your warmth is gone
And my heart has slowed it's beat

I knew the orange on the orange tree
you had an ache in your shoulders
uncomfortable in an unnatural way
yesterday I passed you talking to flowers
you hadn't moved you hadn't strayed
but hiding in the leaves was a forced disguise

the omens told me something quiet and unceasing
reminding me of a slumbering domesticated cat
dreaming of cutting yourself loose from truncated ease
dropping down from the branch with panther steps
licking fruit lips ripe with revealed acidic petals
riddled with a past you revelled mixing in with zest

shocking chances stepped in for the next dance
sleep taken aback by wings cut from a dark sky
the sidewalk pitted and cracked beneath the pounce
relief escaped the twigs with a spring like waking prey
pressing into night foliage shaken from a nice balance
as I saw you take control with nothing to mask your face

on the surface too smooth for violence
was laughter of glowing gloom to embarrass
and deter such rebellious arrogance
with a twist struggling from a lame curse
its flavours sharp against your sweetened perfume muscle
expecting you to build a limestone shed for tears
rather than take on the night with a mind to wrestle

the outside aches for your physical attraction
gaining courage from the purpose in your eyes
tense as the tightness of your dress' intention
demanding that my hands draw from such lines
the sinuous heat of pulsing flesh's invitation
curved upon seeds not chaste but not quite refined
which I try not loving with some cool disambiguation

you left me the taste of syrup of grenadine
too reputable to ripple vain red tipple eyed
on a table spilt with pink gin and mandarin
sharp teeth tingling a tartness into my hand
sliding slowly at a tilt like drops of sweat on skin
focus dwindling into the clasp of an escaping shade
wrapped carefully under soft rice paper and then
tucked under a heel with a pointed kick like a blade
only to feel you relent and burst open
soft in appeal again and again

The sun was in haze
Smoke or dust shrouded mountains
I felt stranded here.

A warmth breath of the early morn,
A touched of the sun's hand to ones eyes.
A strong love that melted the heart of a lonely souls.  
A color of the spring to summer to fall.
A farewell friend in the beginning of the darkness and thy blooms the flower at the far sky.
A twinkled stars in cold breeze in the streets,
and a rising sun that never forgets to open a new life.