How do I shield my mind, my darling,
from the wrath, I have towards myself
or the tongue, as sharp as a blade
that spits bitter words with every breath?
My soul shrouded by secrets untold,
whipped by the wind in a hot desert storm
beaten against fresh, fair skin;
sour, narrow eyes, blinking.
My spirit dances with hollow sighs
and its shadow falls and tumbles
into the darkest of clouds;
tears flow freely into the midnight sky.
But now, my scarlet demons
run screeching from the hills
and the steep mountains rage;
and then forever hushed.