Her eyes shine through my darkness like galaxies,
Starfields illuminating the darkest reaches of my being,
Ancient constellations stitched through wounds left unnamed,
Their silver language quieting the storms that I hide in my mind,
In Amber’s gaze, the night bends softly toward mercy,
And even the shadows seem reluctant to remain,
For where her light gathers, forgotten chambers awaken,
Dust-covered hopes stirring like embers beneath cold ash.
I have grown cold, hardened by loss and the ravages of time,
Hued from cold black granite, weather-beaten, broken but true,
A monument shaped by tempests no hand could shelter me from,
Edges worn by grief, yet refusing surrender to ruin,
The years have carved their silence deep into my bones,
Leaving echoes where warmth once lingered unafraid,
Yet beneath the stone, beneath the fractures and the frost,
Some forgotten ember in me leans still toward her distant fire.
For she is with me, and I with her, eternity will have to wait,
We dance together at the edge of the deep green ocean of sleep,
Where dreams drift like drowned stars beneath a moonless tide,
And silence folds around us like velvet curtains drawn by unseen hands,
The dark no longer hollow, but rich with whispered tenderness,
My bride’s breath is a lantern glowing faintly against endless dusk,
As though time itself pauses to watch our fragile orbit turn,
Two weathered souls suspended between ruin and becoming.
Should morning call us back with its pale and restless hands,
Still I shall carry her constellations beneath my fractured ribs,
A hidden firmament burning softly through granite and grief,
For love, once kindled in darkness, learns the language of enduring.
Dan Verkys 