literature

Molten Phosphorescence

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Literature Text

In the dream, it was in a room of
molten air, a phosphorescent bacchii
murmur still holding sway over my
shoulder.

I'd seen freedom in the center,
a crescent that shied from
the alabaster in my eyes.
A quarter-moon through whom
I'd already convicted
myself.

I know now that this is my home,
I know that I can look but never touch.
I know they will all become moths,
and I'll watch with feline clarity
while they end the magic I wove
for them.

I know...

And I'll never be allowed to forget.
I found this on my hard drive, but glancing through my gallery I couldn't find it anywhere, but I liked it so I thought it worth putting up on here.

Have you ever tried to hold onto someone, or something, and realized that the harder you try to hold them, the further away they get?

The image is from

[link]

Hope you enjoy.
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