>ITT we critique each other's shitty poetry
the grief of the early riser
is bound to his company ,
who wars with the lonely phantoms of his dreams
who braves the hallows of his fears
which, by your mark
fades into the dusk
like a cloud imposed upon a gaze of stars.
Like the rainy blades of green
and the dewy mists of morning,
how they cloud my sight.
As is the fogginess of dawn.
on a morning so gracious
to bring our connection to mind.
Nudging at my shoulder, pointing to you
adorned
and on display.
Painted with a brush so new and fine.
And the wind carries the scent:
what a warm alarm it is to wake to
and be reminded
that I'm embraced and accompanied
day in and day out
for all its humours,
reacquaintance
has found us furnished at the heart,
burning behind the eyes.
On fire with the same force
that lights the sunrise.
Soothing
like the smell after rainfall
before the heat of the day
has a chance to meet my cheek
how warm it is to see
the thawing of the damp,
smoothening the coarseness
of the early hours
as they burn
torrid
with the same fever
that struck the embers
once glowing
shyly
by our toes