a pome

[mcbrat]

In the dark quiet where everything has a hue of blue cold and like veins shrinking away from the deeper body and revealing themselves under a thin skin
The opposite of an olive tone- no gold rosey radiance
Vision blurred and swells in lines- which usually blur and swell in waves concentric spherical
It is not sharp but alone
Heavy- a wet stone i rest in the downy riverbed
It is everything I thought it would be
But i am uncomfortable as only me
The intensity of red light has long left my field of vision
The recognized colors are only a memory
A felt sense
A clip from a faraway lifetime of ours
It was cold there too, and heavy
Even heavier maybe than now
And the recollection is my lullaby
I sing of my tears as they fill the bed and the river too
And rest now in gratitude that my tears have gone dry