nereide she was

As the morning forbids the dreams' nursery,

the eyes creep in the breaches weaned by light

over the gems of shadows that offer their veins

to the waking embrace of other goodbyes.

There he saw the closing night of his journey,

when she was a withering lullaby in his arms

whispering syllables that kindled the width

she heard beyond the collision of his presence

'if you,it would be, i would be, stayed different'

Too young he was to perceive her worth;

little had he lived to be aware that words

domed a temple to welcome within sounds

the possible coming of a soul; his needs

were to grapple with matter for stored particles

that evoked the glee heard in pubs and movies.

She was an external referent to his curiosity

and left her on the coming day with no pain.

Through other women, his naivety was shred;

they taught him the grasps of the abrasive wonder

that splits the veil of a face in its appeal,

that crumbles the received care with the thunders

of thorny edges stitched by sharp resolution.

Lips, limbs, and genitals were conundrums

that dispersed and reassembled the dread

of the lover's pleasure; whose gestures were

a diapason of blood calibrated by touches 

the coagulated bliss from the severed heat,

that did not render the tempered waiting tactile.

What a fragile sarcophagus a woman was

to bind in the hiding of his insecurities.

He became insistent with his inquiries,

garrulous where shrugs should suffice,

stubborn in his suspicion that cheers

prepared the way to the other's indifference.

'Jealousy'  his partners named the demon to be blamed.

But they were wrong: not to propel their moves

by the influence of his; but to paraphrase how

their views were led by voluble harmonies

that crudled entropy in constant intervals

without betraying the resonance bearing significance

to the flaring margins of senses' excited silence.

Over the years he had felt what now he knew:

that only in the reflective pulse of her adieu

he had been secure, at rest in the inwardness

that had become himself by others inflections,

dubious intimacy sought to be, again, hers.

His blessing was then doubled when he realized

how irrelevant it was; if knowledge had meant

to transpose experience to durable teachings

then the long for permanence 

would have ceased;

as the memories that will have trapped time that was;

but the moment becomes vivid as the eyes recede

and the sight penetrates the necessity of severance

that prayers to beauty confine 

in deceitful learning.

The shadows of night await to reconquer their seat

when the light cannot reveal any sign of its defeat.