WINTER TRAFFIC

 

Fear not, dear lady, for I bring you not bad tidings but words that only a lover could pronounce.

 

Have you not been for me all the things that make this earth? Fire? Wind? Water? Have you not loved me with kisses of temperate honey and hands of cool alabaster? My heart, this fleshy, all-too-fragile muscle, is yours. My sweet watcher, dreamer, dear.

 

O the freedom I feel speaking these words to you. Concubine! Cartographer! Calamity glide! My heart will eat its own for you. My sweet fist through the center of the Devil. Through the veil of the dark to find the light for you. All things be dreamed of in your eyes and numbers. Touching wine and eating smoke on the glistening edge of Heaven with you. Paper walls keeping us from paradise.

 

But soft this is not a place for you. Sirius is too Earthbound a place for one as crystalline and radiant. I would, given the propulsion, place you in orbit within a nebula, to forever shine blue in a place of pink and purple. To spin endlessly throwing beauty off you as sparks across the sky.

 

How I wish I could silence the winter traffic that bombards me with hiss and rumble through these windows. Dont they know that I am serenading you quietly in the corner where even you cannot hear? Id rather your ears be gently deaf to these ramblings. I jot my heart quietly as you sit unaware. Love. Brilliant angel. Im here.

 

Would I burn these words? I would. I should. Perhaps I will. Let it fall, scorched into the winter traffic to be one with the slush. Perhaps I will keep it close to me. Hidden in a place you will never look. Such is the song in my heart that wants to scream but fears screaming.

 

Fear not, dear lady, I meant you no offense.

Move along. There is nothing to see here.