melting masks

We polish our masks
with the broken pieces
of our starry skies.
When it rains, the paint
runs down their cheeks
like tears, as if masks could feel,
and souls could fall like melting clouds.
When they’re broken, lost,
colours washed into white afternoons,
we scour the sunsets for our names;
by twilight we drown
in oceans of our boundless hope,
breathing like springtime,
bleeding like salt, silver
like your moonlit-mask;
and you, never knowing
how your lonely eyes
hold all the storms that light the skies…

T. E. Pyrus

life on the stripes

like flowing tide and passing time,
footsteps echo to and fro
across the white striped asphalt road
as faceless shadows come and go.

underneath the mellowed sun,
words and silence melt and flow,
and ripple down the asphalt road
as faceless shadows come and go.

traffic lights blink bright and bare
and blend in smouldered sunset glow,
like ancient streaks on black and white
as faceless shadows come and go.

and twinkling smiles and precious tears
from unfamiliar friend and foe,
all listen, still, for those who wait
as faceless shadows come and go.

T. E. Pyrus

rendezvous

The starless rock carves
a clean silhouette of a wilder sigh
in a red and burning sky
with faint feathers of pinker clouds
that lure fervor into gentle dusk.
The red wine ocean soughs and purrs
and, sometimes, wakes to gasp for breath,
scrambles up the softened side of starless rock
to reach for stars that softly come to life…

T. E. Pyrus

like a painting in the sky…

Sometimes I watch the nighttime chase
the painted sun across the sky,
and rest upon the purple trail
of sprightly moons that flurried by,

while sunset birds carve glowing sounds
of windy calm on coral clouds,
and stars of dusk bring violet, coarse,
to softly blend into dark.

constellations wake the sky
and stir still wind and mist and trees
with precious dreams of morning light
and lilting song and laughing breeze.

T. E. Pyrus

Limits

One day, I will be blind.

I’ll while away my worries
by the fire that’s warm
and crackling, dark; reminiscing tuesdays
and my little red winter boots
that left those footsteps in the snow.
Sometimes, I’ll forget how it felt
to wake to daylight.

I’ll wander into afternoons,
slow and savouring each footfall,
the wafting wind of dry leaves
as they crunch beneath my feet,
probably brown and gold, and
maybe the sun felt warmer
when the sky was blue.

I’ll stir a bright orchestra
of clouds of oranges and pinks
in my mind, and wonder exactly
how green the blades of grass
crushed between my fingers are,
and how many melancholic days
one can live on limited sunsets.

I’ll taste the winds for singing rain
or strong impending storms with thunder
and no lightning to wreck this woeful
soul of sorrow and drench in tears
this heartless heart and cool
this wilful mind of vanity
that will always chase the past.

I’ll lie upon comforting sands
by seas I once gazed upon in awe,
like timeless heartbeat, crashing waves
and salt in the damp breeze, rolling tides
and the moon that’s long said goodnight
once for all; stars and stars, and falling stars
that burn and fade like loving smiles.

One day, I will be blind.

T. E. Pyrus

Traveller,

Tell me a story, traveller,

of unwalked roads you walked alone
beneath the blue and sunlit sky,
paved with earth or cobblestone
and straying clouds that wander by.

of strange lands and stranger folks
and strange songs they sang with you,
in strange tongues they call their home,
that, in your dreams, was somewhere new.

of temporary loves you loved,
then set your broken lovers free,
and healed your broken, heartless soul
beneath the starry sky and sea.

of darkened woods and foreign sound
that haunt the night-time every night.
of moons that follow footsteps quiet
and stars that watch in silent light.

of stormy nights and thunderclouds
that failed to bring your childish fears,
and drowning rain that drowned the winds
and brought you melancholic tears.

of snowy golden sunsets high
on mountain sides, ragged and old
and tears of wonder, tears of joy,
love of stories left untold.

of rivers running swiftly by
your resting sleep ere break of day.
of twilights that blanket the sky
and sweep the orange clouds away.

of lost lanterns and memories
and aimless wandering in the night.
of faraway towns of scattered starry
homes so warm and hearts so bright.

of lone camp-fires’ dancing songs
and lonely faded quiet applause.
of longing and of selfish pain,
of losing love and loving loss.

Tell me a story, traveller,
of reminiscing in grateful shade,
and of your final travel home
before your loving memories fade.

T. E. Pyrus

Painting Memories

tumblr_odbri9a0ak1sufel9o1_500

I’ve seen the fiercely joyful constellations in your eyes,
Bright with wonder of the wandering starlight in the skies…

When you forget the fleeting moments in our golden autumn light
With your dreams that lay beside me in the quiet and starry night,

I’ll string our breezy laughter, twinkling crystal-still like stone,
We’ll watch sunsets paint the sea while I build sandcastles alone.

We’ll build that summer cottage, not too near the salty shore
And greet that snowman who’ll await you every christmas at our door.

I’ll fill my nights with legends ere I lose our mortal lie,
So we’ll live again in tales ‘neath the ever-starry sky.

T. E. Pyrus

[Featured image is the artwork of batensan. All rights belong to the artist.]
P.S. Thank you, batensan, for letting me borrow your art!

another dusk

trace the fading numbers
before you abandon that
ancient calender, crumbling
and wistful, and pale golden dust
in the fading light that feels
like nostalgia and smells like home;
wonder if they wondered about you
a hundred years ago.

T. E. Pyrus

magic

i believe in magic.
i believe that dewdrop pearls
on spider web necklaces
make the world go ’round;
and every ray of waking light
in between the stars tonight
blessed with night owls’ song
brings dreams to sleepless souls
and hope to those whose
tears run like little streams
reflecting the morning,
born quiet from its cocoon
of purple darkness;
i believe in waking sleep
when light and shadow
play in between the curtains
at dawn, and coffee and
the painting on the wall
of beauty and childlike joy;
i believe in laughter
when you step out the door
and it spills onto the side walk,
down the street, replacing
mundane with imagination;
i believe in silence and afternoons,
the birds that lose their way
in the warm winds,
travelling across blue skies
like the quiet before a storm;
i believe in sunsets that sprinkle
hope in the eyes of
young forlorn lovers,
intertwined fingers,
memory in minds
of those who feel heartbeats
and heartbeats before
they fade to a dull,
aching memory of
heartbroken love,
home in the hearts
of travellers who fade
like ghosts into the dusk;
i believe in storms
that light the evening
in magenta and fairy lights
that burn into the skin
of the sky: the hour for tears
that melt from souls
of wrinkles and comforting smiles,
the cool drops that sting in the wind
and fuse into hope,
a wistful joy of crushing
bitterness in your fingers
right before it takes over your soul;
i believe in stars,
a billion burning lights
in the sky that twinkle
like slow, breathless passion
that paints instinct
over thought, ecstasy
in her fingers in my hair,
and no one to care for
seconds that countdown to silence;
i believe in midnight,
the quiet, ticking clock
and cinderella’s hurried
footsteps down the staircase,
fingertips that almost don’t touch,
eyes that whisper in silence;
i believe in words, silent love,
i believe in magic.

T. E. Pyrus

cupid’s crayons

i heard you singing in my sleep,
that distant ringing that brings
yellow to the crayon drawing
of the sun. the little red barn
and the river running by,
the sunset and the morning that
brighten up the sky.

with your burning beauty
like cupid and death
that leaves my stumbling,
bleeding like tears
and nobody hears your
restless fingertips on the glass.

look through the mirror,
and maybe you’ll see
what i see in in your
laughter.

when you look at me,
love, do you see me blinded by
my sorry tears, this apology of
a side character in my own life?

see me helpless as i gaze
at your receding shoulders
into the distance, down the road
less taken?

do you see my
breath running wild across
meadows that envelope forevers
when i wait at the crossroads
of heartbreak and desperation?

i’ll walk a million miles through
sand and snow, and all i want you
to know is i’ll remember
each phrase you flung
my way in your act of
wistful apathy.

when you
watch every sunset with
your golden eyes brighter
than the sun, full of thought
and sophisticated emotion,
not a drop for me,
and walk away with your
victory, and announce your
cursed sentence: heartbroken for evermore.

now while i walk from door to door
for make-up to cover my tears,
nail-paint to cover my bloodstained
fingers that claw at my heart in my throat.
unmoved, you shall walk away,
once you kill me with
your gentle smile.

spontaneous combustion is an art.

T. E. Pyrus