Your under-eyes, smoky;
puffy like liquid-bloated cumulus clouds
after world-ending nuclear war.
Tell me of sleepless nights,
tear-drenched red pillow—
from brink of dusk to crack of dawn
Where are those smiling cerulean eyes?
The ones who told me stories
of crimson-robed sages
with canary yellow balloons in hand.
Your wonder and wisdom.
You set both sailing on a boat
along the forbidden river—
until the horizon devoured it.
In its place? I offer you a friend-
ship. But before we seal the deal—
I want you to become a trusty comrade
to yourself. You must love your heart
in all of its mosaicked splendor.
I’ll merely be the hands that hold it
together on the days when those inner
wars are much too soul-searing to bear.
I make this promise to you.
©2016 – Eva PoeteX