My partner was a wonderful photographer. My inhibitions surrendered to his starry, fervent gaze, to the histories of myth and resurrection. Shadow of this God, untouched by my impurities, resonates within me, igniting memories of flickering lights and cheap bottles of Old Crow. His long, slicked back hair pulverized my liberation to ashes and smoulders; to ivory, crimson and coral red shades. A lover lost in transition, a naked tale found in translation.
The lost art of calm sea devouring me, one breath at a time, passes your letters engraved on my eyelids, beneath my broke fallacy. I dwell in your chest cavity, untouched by my impurities, listening to the silence unheard, one drop at a time. The howls tear the air apart into fragments of longing and insanity, ribcages collapsing and my love for you, framed. My soul has settled in yours, bemoaning grey nights spent alone; a breath-distance, all that it takes for catharsis, all that it takes to love.
© Cereus Florus. 2018.