Cascades, Or So It Feels Like
By: ShinigamiForever

A/N: Not a love poem. Then again, none of mine are. Just a poem, using the relative he.

I look for him
in spaces that can never be touched,
in cracks where mortar can never fill.
His voice runs
like water down the back of ducks.
It slicks down my mind.

I search for him
in dreams that I deftly manipulate,
in gaps that are dipped in black.
his fingers flit,
like anxious butterflies.
They fall on my face.

Somewhere in folds of amber silver silk
A pocket of stars
endlessly drawn to him, his face
And he, falling up,
Knows nothing but the vastness of space.
A warm wet blankness engulfs him.

My borders expatiate until
they touch the retreating armies of the horizon
and I know,
somewhere, among the masses of red and gold,
he, a little patch of darkness,
is still wearing his shadow badges.

A pinch of dawn sky.
In New York skyscrapers, his eyes are reflected.
I, looking for my own flash of blue,
turn to catch what scattered light remains.
While he and I both fade into anonymity,
another ripple loses its name.

A/N: So whaddya think? Reviews please!