The light was paler than the pall of dawn,
you were standing framed by rain,
half-shaded in the shadows of a receding moon,
eerily close – a delicate silhouette –
smudged to perfection.
My heart knelt, devout, at your altar,
rubbing purple fumes from these dark eyelids,
whose pellucid whispers fill the vaults of Existence now.
Every tear, sheathed in uncertainty, is dead –
their iridescent ash sleeps safe in my chrysalis.
Colors have returned, permeating my iris.
Emptiness, all alone this tepid night,
stains my spectacles with nostalgia –
red like the opium buds upon your lips,
savoring satisfaction, distracted.