photograph by Camila Pereira
The sunshine feels damn good.
Like a tunnel of calm,
sulking under weeping skylines.
And there she is,
her golden hair under a smile
ferociously fought for.
A somber goddess,
fallen,
but just for now.
She will rise again.
Stronger,
conflicted,
and beautiful.
The sounds came softly.
Profound discourse amidst
a mind too smart for its own good.
And there he is,
a cold blue gaze submerged in fire red,
solemn grey,
and all the other colors
mixed in ways
that don’t work outwardly.
An angel misstated upon introduction.
He will break this mold.
Stronger,
conflicted,
and beautiful.
The last 454 pages have teased me,
as I stay waiting,
waiting for Robert Jordan
to blow his bloody bridge.
My stomach is rock hard
from turkey sandwiches
and snack-time seductions.
And there I am,
bleached calves licked by a favor.
A simple man,
reaching for complexity.
But goD sits unsearched
and unseen
in armpit shadows.
Stronger,
conflicted,
and beautiful.
