Your Cold, Blue Hand

In rain, your eyes half-opened
my drowsy, cloaked angel. Behind you,
dancing, delirious ocean begging
for your attentions. But I built
this world with you in it, beads
of water sliding down, a perfect journey
from leaf to rock. When the mist
surrounds us, a grey-purple smoke-filled
room, you extend your cold, blue hand
and lead me further up the mountain.

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