The sky goes blind from so much light, that drive home heading straight into the burning west. The color of eyes that wept once after you, the color of vision lit from with-in. It takes on the shape of things yet to be seen. That shape that tomorrow holds, somewhere beneath its seething tides. That shape of dread or longing, the certainty that you will never understand.
My eyes dim and seep, old and worn through from staring too long without respite. Dusk rushes in, through the slats in the blinds on the windows, through the space between the screen and the door. I move about by tooth and custom, my bite so much worse than my awful bark. The world is bitter and bloody, it is salty and ever so sweet. I take whatever bites my sharpened teeth may manage. I steal ever glance, and savor every theft.
It is the reckless tide lit by lightning, it is the moon beckoning from the icy depths. It is the piece of the song buried in some film you can not help but remember, the back beat some gathering of action, some marshaling of force. You stare, because it is so simple. This beauty which binds you, this beauty you become. That miserable bolt of a tree stretching from the train tracks to the sky. That rough silhouette every love you have ever squandered, every kiss you have ever blown. Your eyes a brightness I can not endure in stillness. Your gaze another horizon I can not reach.
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