I Fell in Love with a Shadow

I Fell in Love with a Shadow

 

 

I fell in love with a shadow. 

A dark haired beauty with a jet silver undistinguishable from the shade of love: the depth of her tenderness echoed happily through the everlasting sorrows of spring and danced along the streaks of morning careless and unannounced.  Her hands played on the gentle leaves that rose from the red maples, she blessed the wilderness with a quiet harmony, victoriously filling the holes in the fragile trees and warming the burrows of malicious vermin that preyed on the hungry nighttime. 

We rolled from the wood to the wall, laughing all along the itching weeds, their haunting vermillion flashing in the sunshine of the foggy noon which washed down the clouds and the foolish breezes alive in the pollen fall, breathing in the mist.

All others were cast from the sky with the weather of our shuttered eyes: our eyes grew squinted in the sunshine of our love but the day would soon fall like a thousand nightmares on the wretch of the earth, the harem masquerading as life drenched with the tears of the howling dogs and the sallow moon.

She was a shadow and shadows fall. She grew longer and farther, thinner and then clear, cast from the grime of my feet like a vagrant dream in the darkness of midnight.

I realized that she was my own shadow.

A thousand goodbyes can fall on deaf ears with cushions of well wished anguishes and slow breath prayers but prayers cannot damn a memory or heal the years gone. I kissed the darkness of her dimming freckles, the depth of reeling waters caught in her smile, the light of dawn playing on her fading hair.

Somethings can kill you with less than a word; the word is uttered slowly as life and then vibrates in the stillness of silence.

No shadow lies in the morning and my quiet loves shrivel in the cruel struggles of a silver dew.

I fell in love with my shadow but shadows cannot love. They can only mimic the width of tongues as they mouth the meaningless words of morning, the words that lull from the winds of love into the ears of the young and foolish with fingers wrested from the aching muscles and yellowing fingernails of a love that time has forgotten.

Shadows cannot love.