Dawn

I read you the soft call of morning
but it does not take.
I want to wear you,
a mirrored woman in the darkness so
beautiful in a moon‘s parade.
I seek out eyes like flames and
pity the ashes, now rising
because dust will not settle
in this hour: no longer mine,
and you are everywhere.
You drive the moon where colours sleep
naked, force darker imagination
on moon-lit waves curled up
inside me.
I am parched;
I never knew I could ask for more.
I can see all the way onto shores of dreaming
and here:
blackness, hallowed by your name.
There is a fire in this night  
to claw at my mask and beg me to stay,
which you started,
did not take.
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