You are the night sky when I close my eyes. This is where I find rest. Your chest cages not one, but two hearts – a sacred space for dancing beneath the stars of all you are. Vast canvas, stippled with magic that’s been missed too easily by those who only chased bright lights. But not you – I could never have missed you. Miss you, yes, but.
Not a chance I could have walked right by without the magic and the moonlight calling out to me for one last love affair with darkness. Pure and peaceful shadow. Gentle. Warm, contrary to how it may look. Ebony grace, not startling or reckless. I will never call you raven, black bird.
While riddled with myths of death and despair, nevermore! – or at least not in this poem. You love all the hells out of me. I traded them in: others’ sins for your hands and my heartache for your skin. Black bird, sing your dark melody and use your wings in this dark dance beneath your evermore sky.
So I close my eyes not to sleep, but to wander in your dreams. Perhaps we’ll meet. When the days are too bright and burning with the busyness of doing, I’ll blink and you are there. When the sun forces shadows into spaces where there should only be music and air, you’ll be there.
My black bird. My night sky. My love affair. My dance; my song. My magic; my moon. It’s all you.