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She spoke

Incandescent truths.

Inexplicable luminescence.

Stringing harmony

Out of silence.

Virginizing the pure.



The cure for grayscale,

She colored the still air

On a whim.

Respiring

In various angles

Of wind.

Each breeze

Pregnant

With a different clarity.



She sang

Both ends

Of the same song

At once

In opposite directions

As I awaited

The intersection

Of melodies

At the center

Of her coo.



Yeah, she was in tune

With another

Dimension,

But somehow

I needed no explanation.

Her mere mention

Of things

Made sense of

What senses

Should not have been able

To claim.



I wonder

If today

She glows the same.

Every morning I gaze

Through frosty panes

And I could swear it's her

Burning

Tangerine bright.

As I wish

To be her

Sky

Before her eyes close

And beckon the night.