Behind My Eyes

Ephemural Nights

The house whistled and buzzed,
Drowning out the live repugnant audience of crickets and mosquitoes
outside- All around.
The floors creaked, the woman hummed,
Cool air came from the vent.
With dripping, wet hair and a soft, longing smile-
She rocked the bassinet aquiver-
With each nearly frozen drop onto her shoulder.
The babe calm with the mellifluous hum in his fragile ears.
She pressed her lips to that of the babe,
Before soundlessly getting into her own bed.
The woman marked by 'all' of her few years,
She would awake faintly and bustle to get her love out to her every little thing,
She had closest to nothing.
Supine she sighed her heart to the ceiling,
Letting it go beyond to the stars.
Her sickening solitude was devastating.
Some other time she could have slept within the dawn,
If not for Aurora's subjection.
She yawned and rubbed her eyes seeing phosphores although dark.
She did finally rest her eyes, her only pleasure oblivion.
The small heat of the night might have allowed her to break a sweat in her sleep-
if not for the vent.
It began to rain.
Just slights so.
Even in her dream she stood with wonder, but she never failed to reject it,
Otherwise depression would have crept over her.
Something about wanting to be the only one. Kind? Selfish?
A little later she'd be more peaceful in her slumber,
as the storm approached with a lovely warning of sonorous thunder and lightning.
A flash that could only be seen through the open space in her curtain-
If closely payed attention to,
But then again,
If she did wake the vast ocean of curtain may not have stilled enough for the storm.
She could have stared for hours,
And still miss the lightning with the fabric sinking into the window.
The drops heavier now.
They could remind you of the ones that played on her cheeks.
Deeper and deeper she fell into herself with sleep.
This position might as well be her one true love...
But this was a lie.

There never was
A cricket, mosquito, a bassinet, a baby, a dream with sonder, rain.
Only a vent...
With 'warm' air, with thin blankets over her bare,
and thick air broken with a desperate thought that all in all makes her.
There might not have even been a smile.
Lying next to her, passionate feelings of self doubt on air.
She'd hope to become more,
But she 'did' miss the rain, petrichor is what she lived for.
The pain in pure love, devotion 'was' her.
It could seem god wasn't ready to heal her broken heart.
Some ignorance just couldn't have been blissful,
Yet oblivion was still her pleasure,
Love her one wish.
The lights that twinkles in her brown eyes came from this,
The pain in her mind.
The red in her cheeks, strains of fear and sorrow.
Her general touch, weakness.
Her empathy, torturous loneliness.
Her smile, the pure, complete love she feels and wants- for everyone,
from everyone...
Especially in these nights.