eating

In a distant spring, my very veins bloomed into a field of blue roses for you. I wandered trails, and watered myself with rain, driven ecstatic by when your name first found a place on my tongue. A triad of syllables I held close to my breast, beejas that crackle me with lightening at every pulse. You were mine alone, your company I would die for, an ascetic who taught me the pangs of hunger. Helios by day, new moon of night, by way of cruel gods, and crueler men. We were friends once.

Spring is a long time gone. Your mercury island is all that remains, a temple of salt, my raft sailing your alkaline seas.