Dirge

i am not resigned to the contorted fingers of a throttling history squeezing my heart till it busts with distrust and grief and black cloying despair. in one nova of a moment , the loss of self, and the shattering of a universe.

the touch of the cold claws of time and the unforgiving world that rakes me that scar and rend this frail feeble flesh , nor the cold fangs of disillusionment that have sunk deep into the tender pulsing flesh of my neck, as acidic tears of betrayal burn there course down my cheeks.

the ebony claws that tattered a gossamer will from my body and in the torment of time shredded it till the bitter winds of hopelessness dispersed each reminisce into the pit of my anger.

i am not resigned to your fortress of flesh , to the turning of stone of your smooth shoulders, or the deadening of your small firm breasts.
nor the stemming of the flow of the warm stream of your loins.

for as long as there is a tug of a silver moon there will be the push and pull of tides. for as long as there is the caress of waves and foam, and the tang of salt in the embrace of the sea, i will not be resigned to the bitter taste of brine.

i am not resigned to the cold distance of your silver lunar desire ,that forlorn distance between light and dark and longing and despair.

i am not resigned to the finality of a heart of a fist of pain and loneliness. to this crusting over, the calcifying, the slipping into hibernation in a winter without end, of endless blizzards and bone cracking frost that coats and snaps, and lays barren a once fertile land.

i am not resigned to the opening of barren ground and interning the looks and touches that once lingered on my face and traveled gently the curve of your neck.

nor the internment in the rings of fires of purgatory, the lingering torment of the soulless and deathless, who have lost trust, and belief, and who have fallen into the darkness of the eternal pause neither alive nor dead.

nor am i resigned to the curling of fingers into a hand that knots into a fist that has lost the ability to unwind, and tenderly travel the infinite distance between my eyes and your heart.

the darkness that has cloaked this possibility of thaw, denied the spring of my body to unfurl its new green shoots to struggle up through the frozen crust of smothering snow to gasp in frail tendrils of warming sun. that deep in its warmth holds the seed of promise that longs to surrender to the gentle green of my push.

i am not resigned to the shattering of frail alabaster, the braking of porcelain into shards and chips that defies infinite touches and deep struggling urges.
nor the spilling of light into murky pools that gobble and suck each golden ray of effort to penetrate the consuming darkness of there depth.

nor the loss that has diminished me that has leaked into the swallowing beyond , the washing out of color to the dull gray of storm clouds hazing in the flat circle of my vision.

i am not resigned.