Collateral Damage

Where are you?, my lips whisper through the trembling hiss of molten regret that spews through their fault line,

Where are you?, and I reside in a prison for the deranged — their cry’s the words ringing of the truth I fear to accept

Where?

I want to paint the rust on your heart, with hues of aurelian and argent — linings,

I’m lost between the world, where you do not wish to be found —

The agony, is knowing your name is the last breath I’ll breathe, and my heart is a wilderness of volcanic debris

I know the why, everyone knows the why, yet I circle the boundaries of

where — on the day’s of hope, that rise up my chimney flute, their plumes in search of you — they reach beyond the realms of my vernacular —

smoking the shattered mirrors of my heart with shades beyond the reflections seen in the flows of obsidian, the embers of coal, drowned in the blackest of black

Is there a shade darker then black — where?, my heart— I’m beginning to fear the dark…

Your pain osculatory — salutated my own,

mellifluosly seamless, and in this hell did yours begin and mine knows no end

our pain spoke of the joy — past tense —

my obsidian pain as dark as my heart can be painted — in heaven,

but where is my heaven? — but where heaven and hell collide

Amid the handful of earth, I gently threw, and sealed eternally the epicenter of our world’s,

with the seismic magnitude of our predicted farewell —

The collateral damage, my embers float in search of you,

on the ashes of the wind.

Copyright ©. R Tsambounieri Talarantas. May 30, 2020. All Rights Reserved.