it’s glass

it’s glass,
translucent white murano
[christmas morning, shock, lips meeting in the dark]
that detonates you in my mind 

чомусь

smashed champagne bottles
[the glass opaque, the colour of wet sand at night]
are littered here,
confetti of my lives.
they live from new year to new year
[incredible, alluring, bold vibrant colours in the setting dusk]
until all age is lost. 

until that slice of sunshine
so often playing in your eyes,
[a child in sandbox, early summer, smell of peonies, freshly moved grass]
sets me alight once more 

чомусь

——————————–

it’s been a long way coming here. i lost so much of me, you lost of much of you. the long march, where the world got trampled in the mud. but now we’re here, lets do it. no hesitation. there must have been a reason for it all.

72. on a carousel of heights

one more year nearly over but this time i won’t attribute it to anyone. no, not to you or X or Y. it wasn’t mine either for it took me on a ride, spinning me around on a carousel of heights. and i can’t see the lows, looking back into all that time through my rose-tinted glasses. i can’t.
lets leave them lurking in the shadows, where past has teeth and broken dreams, like glitter, pave the floor.
i’ll visit them again. i have before.

i’m supersticious.
and i believe.
i believe that one must welcome a year in with the colours of its chinese animal; that one must drink a glass of champagne as the clock stikes midnight; that the way one spends new year’s eve will be the way one spends the year.
my supersticions supersede any norm of rationality, but darling, you said so yourself, i’m the luckiest person you know.

lets believe.
believe that there’s some truth to supersticion after all and drink champagne tonight.
and it’ll be the night when i will set the sky alight, our paper lantern flying up above. i’ve found love.

of stars

i think i’ll dream of stars tonight
the ones that set the world alight
and shine upon my window
with a somehow pensive glare

and in that dream, a star will fall,
a blue-green falling star,
a celebration from afar, 

and I will wish upon it,
every ember of it
not just a firework,
but milky way of spilt love in your hands,

and i was not yours
but still your hands polished away the cold

for we were young,
and we were bold,
and dreamt of stars that night.