"Bitter Fingers"


Bitter Fingers.
Scratched, cracked, bitten, and chewed.
Encased by solid crystal.
Words written in saturnine soliloquies,
Spoken by the writers own hands.

He is the wolf, and she, the star.
Silence engulfs their distance,
As both luminescence and fur reach towards each other,
Yet by fate never allowed to touch.

Centuries glide ghosting over the wolf's features,
Watching the silhouette of his lovers lone light.
His coat is shaggy, riddled with silver,
Yet his eyes reflecting youth and longing,
As he stares into the dusk.

The star so brilliantly incandescent,
Sits amongst her throne of thorns.
Silver iris gleaming with longing,
As time alludes her, and its spidery tendrils grasp her suitor.

She lays, noticing the leaves continuously crunch into bits under his paws,
Then turn into lush greenery.
Her eyes, so fair and bright gazes upon him,
As his knees buckle beneath his paws, on her perch within the heavens.

Silvery and bright, her long fingers ghost over the barrier separating them.
Murmuring his name in her lilt wispy tongue,
She cries.

Again, centuries pass,
And the star never moves, watching her lover,
Become one with the earth.
Her fingers dance, writing their story into the heavens,
All the while reminiscing on his last breath.

"I never blamed you."