Where the night air burns
Like ink poured into water,
Pulled taffy clouds,
Somnolent perfume,
Tiny wounds of light.
Slowly, like shadow, she moves
Among the ruins
Where colors are born,
Inverted ocean floor,
Handbag full of tears,
Jasmine scented dreams,
Air-conditioned eyes.
Her smile trembles like a charm,
Sand,
Sand sparkling like stars.
Silver waves slide beneath her feet.
With every step she loses her way
In that prismatic hour
Where kisses are sorrows
That linger for years.
--Mark F., Adult