vayda

I write sometimes...



Splendorlust

There are things I will never understand
how they originate in such a form
that your hair lays perfectly in the sun
and when your eye lids peel away
in the morning
as your blankets
unfold all that was a dream.
Those eyes are so bright
and deeply blue
and afraid of me.
Out of this
you are a walking nightmare
that holds my reality in check,
while breathing down my neck.
I am tucked in by you
making my nightly wanderlust
in the deepest corners of my brain
invalid.
The wishing well in my head
has run out of water
and coins.
I am powerless to your splendor.