Under this grey
tapestry of clouds
where even clowns would not
dare brighten or grin at;
I recall you.
In between deep breaths
the figure of you
a faint after-glow
of lime-greens and off-white
skin
passes by the peripherals
After deep sighs
and long evening walks
I surrender
bloodied and bone-dried
to the core
You appear.
Yet only long enough
for the afternoon rain
to wash you off
these mossy firewalls.
-Jay Protacio Mendoza-
*written: September 20, 2014
*written: September 20, 2014