beebox
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Aug 3, 2017
- Messages
- 119
Major Avenue stood along
a curved embankment -
a swaying hilltop -
'neath the resplendent glow of a
lonely streetlight shrouded
by dimmed stars.
I traveled north nightly
for the better half of a year -
the straight or winding roads
forever emblazoned my memories -
racing white on the pavement,
racing white on our skin.
Nighttime - a curious plaything
who always had our attention -
burned and birthed the dawn,
piercing and unwanted -
I'd venture toward the sun,
trying to make it home, blind.
Sleep adopted my exhausted frame,
and a head filled with dreams of
curves, highways, mirrors, and glass -
and your crooked, serpentine smile -
I'd awaken, frozen and stifling,
wondering if I'd gone too far.
The endgame came to fruition
as the proclivity became excruciating -
I engaged in a firefight with
the Major, and the army you built
to battle my attempts at your heart -
you emerged victorious.
And so the night still chases the dawn,
the false-light implores nature's sky,
all roads will continue to ramble -
and even though I can't recall the melody of your voice -
the intense hues of your iris
will never be slighted.
a curved embankment -
a swaying hilltop -
'neath the resplendent glow of a
lonely streetlight shrouded
by dimmed stars.
I traveled north nightly
for the better half of a year -
the straight or winding roads
forever emblazoned my memories -
racing white on the pavement,
racing white on our skin.
Nighttime - a curious plaything
who always had our attention -
burned and birthed the dawn,
piercing and unwanted -
I'd venture toward the sun,
trying to make it home, blind.
Sleep adopted my exhausted frame,
and a head filled with dreams of
curves, highways, mirrors, and glass -
and your crooked, serpentine smile -
I'd awaken, frozen and stifling,
wondering if I'd gone too far.
The endgame came to fruition
as the proclivity became excruciating -
I engaged in a firefight with
the Major, and the army you built
to battle my attempts at your heart -
you emerged victorious.
And so the night still chases the dawn,
the false-light implores nature's sky,
all roads will continue to ramble -
and even though I can't recall the melody of your voice -
the intense hues of your iris
will never be slighted.