Title art by Ashvin Harrison. Click image to visit his studio.

 

Listen to Live Reading

 

 

 

Listen to Suggested Audio

 

Ella Fitzgerald “Blue Moon”

 

 

 

 

 

On nights like these
I love to dance
Tis a diversion I adore

 

The feeling of the bitter night’s embrace provides sonata to my charcoal heart
The dying embers in the grate beneath my bosom find life where nothing else can exist
My lips purse breathlessly as I lean in for a kiss which never arrives
And I like it

 

Sorrow is my compeer and our association predates any smiles I ever wore
Perhaps I am wrong
Correct me if I am
But this feeling has nursed me through so many of life’s carefree moments

 

It has been my sturdy rock
Confidant
Lover
My best friend
I know not of when this courtship commenced or where the dangerous liaison will end

 

As I stand atop the crag
Overlooking an introverted sea of wistful thinking
I hear the crackle of dusty vinyl
Stylus pressing down on the grooves of my sunken gloom
I stand imperfectly still in muted contemplation

 

Its breathing space is my suffocation
Its hot breath my cool autumn breeze
Its icy hands my warm summer day
Its contradiction my affirmation
And as I gaze into the blackest eyes
Its sneer becomes my smile
All the while, the needle scratches its salutation

 

Static crackles between us as my flesh begins to peel away
Trees tangle and twist to form a bridal path, the tide beneath me rising to fashion a flowing procession embroidered from my body’s cobalt tears
I weep with stolen joy, sob with abstract fancy, mourn with jostling joie de vivre, tell myself a thousand bad jokes and laugh at every one
And then, the symphony begins

 

The congregation is most vocal
Cello strings screech their discordant blessing all around me as I undress
My velvet evening gown tumbles to my bare feet as I take my position on the ballroom floor
Naked. Exposed. Liberated.

 

Emancipated by the quilt of approving eyes which caress every inch of my undraped fabric
Lingering as they finger my subjection
Exceedingly possessive as they plant their red flags in the garden of my bones
Suggestive as they bleed me out
Hush my lips
Then hear me out

 

Waltzing down this bluebell Path
I suddenly spot a single red cedar further to the left
It blushes
Bleeds its roseate leaves
Weeping sap from twisting knots in accordance to my own
I feel compelled to change my course
Mournful as ever but no longer so divorced from my surroundings
I feel its roots crisscrossing through my toes and they tickle as they do
This causes me to pivot, whirling ever deeper into their charmed hold
The icy hands still grip tightly
But no longer do they take the lead

 

The feeling of the red cedar’s embrace provides sweetest sonata to my charcoal heart
The vital embers in the grate beneath my bosom breathe life where once nothing else existed
My lips purse breathlessly as I lean in for a kiss which arrives right on cue
And I like it

 

Rapture is my compeer and our association predates any tears I ever shed
Perhaps I am wrong, correct me if I am
But this feeling has nursed me through so many of life’s hopeless moments

 

It has been my sturdy rock
Confidant
Lover
My best friend
I know precisely when this courtship commenced and where the melodious liaison will end

 

Then, as I bid one final fond farewell to my flesh and dance into the new skin which awaits at the altar before me, I hear once more, the crackle of dusty vinyl.

 

Stylus pressing down on the grooves of my blue soul’s radiant heart
I stand imperfectly still in muted approbation
All the while, the needle scratches its salutation

 

Static crackles between us as my flesh begins to heal
Suggestive as it hears me out
Parts my lips
Then breathes me out

 

 

 

 

 

Richard Charles Stevens

 

Keeper of The Crimson Quill

 

 

 

Click here to purchase All of Me Vol. III

 

 

Click here to purchase on Amazon

 

 

© Copyright: Rivers of Grue™ Shadow Spark Publishing™