Obsidian Glass: Scholastics Art and Writing 2014
July 23rd, 2013
The obsidian glass hung suspended in the air,
crumpled starlight pasted against a scorched poster board.
We lay with our backs against the frigid asphalt,
the white lines ghosts in the descending midnight.
Our hands lay so close and yet far away
until our fingers found their way to each other
entwining like blossom covered vines.
Your blue-green eyes stared into mine
and for a moment, I believed in God.
Your tumbled curls were awash with silver
and your heart beat set the pace for the Earth's rotations.
The Milky Way was spilled milk against the blackened velvet of sky
A singular sigh
escaped from my frozen lips
and turned into a chip
of burnished ice.
Our words hung
pendulous
in the October night.
We sat and looked at the world from our alitudinous height
hearts racing with the roaring winds
and our eyes taking in
the fraudulence of our fellow peers.
They pretend to give their hearts away
and watch in vain as the ones they claim to love
never return that vivid emotion.
They adduce that their hearts are shattered and broken
but isn't there a form of pulchritude that can only be found
in the cracks and fissures of a fragmented being?
Love is not the way they say it is in Disney movies
There is no prince and princess
and those happily ever afters are only a defective dream.
In their places are fights and blights
hard work and sleepless nights
holding hands under covers as the sun sets behind gravestone houses
and bodies fitting together like two puzzle pieces.
Love is not pristine
but there is nothing near as beautiful
as the feeling of being held by the one who holds your heart.
Fingers intertwine and palms press against warm flesh
glass-like structures that could crumble into silken ash at any moment.
You are no saint and I am a sure-fire sinner
but one October night
as the star-studded sky bathed us in astronomical light
we traded our hearts for the other's
and our bodies beat to the same beat
as a breeze shook the slumbering trees.
Your arms were oaken beings
the bark etched with a thousand stories
carved by life's trials
and your eyes shone with the light
of cosmic storm clouds.
Our shadows cavorted with moon beams
and were cast against the iced streets
as our arms swung through Winter's conceit.
You held me
and we seemed to grow into infinity.
The obsidian glass hung suspended in the air,
crumpled starlight pasted against a scorched poster board.
We lay with our backs against the frigid asphalt,
the white lines ghosts in the descending midnight.
Our hands lay so close and yet far away
until our fingers found their way to each other
entwining like blossom covered vines.
Your blue-green eyes stared into mine
and for a moment, I believed in God.
Your tumbled curls were awash with silver
and your heart beat set the pace for the Earth's rotations.
The Milky Way was spilled milk against the blackened velvet of sky
A singular sigh
escaped from my frozen lips
and turned into a chip
of burnished ice.
Our words hung
pendulous
in the October night.
We sat and looked at the world from our alitudinous height
hearts racing with the roaring winds
and our eyes taking in
the fraudulence of our fellow peers.
They pretend to give their hearts away
and watch in vain as the ones they claim to love
never return that vivid emotion.
They adduce that their hearts are shattered and broken
but isn't there a form of pulchritude that can only be found
in the cracks and fissures of a fragmented being?
Love is not the way they say it is in Disney movies
There is no prince and princess
and those happily ever afters are only a defective dream.
In their places are fights and blights
hard work and sleepless nights
holding hands under covers as the sun sets behind gravestone houses
and bodies fitting together like two puzzle pieces.
Love is not pristine
but there is nothing near as beautiful
as the feeling of being held by the one who holds your heart.
Fingers intertwine and palms press against warm flesh
glass-like structures that could crumble into silken ash at any moment.
You are no saint and I am a sure-fire sinner
but one October night
as the star-studded sky bathed us in astronomical light
we traded our hearts for the other's
and our bodies beat to the same beat
as a breeze shook the slumbering trees.
Your arms were oaken beings
the bark etched with a thousand stories
carved by life's trials
and your eyes shone with the light
of cosmic storm clouds.
Our shadows cavorted with moon beams
and were cast against the iced streets
as our arms swung through Winter's conceit.
You held me
and we seemed to grow into infinity.