Love's Wild Fog

Echoes are intangible, atop the tiny brushes of leaves of St Clair. A light breath of lagged tears fog, insurmountably afloat like ash in the air. My boots press like stamps, metallic scatterings at a vocal range that deafens, making my heart stop and turn with momentary regret. Should I leave or stay?

I lay in the gold grass here not long ago, my corset’s lace loosened as you reached for my bare soul. Your touch was edged with glazed brown eyes, a fog only you knew how to muster. I pressed your spiky head close to my bare chest, feeling your sensual lips across my bare skin, wrapping you in the warmth of my dark brown, elated tresses. My heart beat at the speed of a race horse, ready to run wild and free.

The eve we met, our ranch doors opened to you standing on the dirt pathway outside. You were tall, dark-eyed handsome, your free spirit flashing in the dimple on your cheek. Your tight, manly torso aroused me, dressed in riding gear, coupled by worn muddy boots. Your intense chiselled visage lit up and smiled appreciatively as your gaze lingered on my body, soaking in my appearance.

Reaching for my hand, you showed me how to mount your thoroughbred horse. My heart beat was electric as I felt the mare’s wired energy, its vitality in sheer will. You told me it was here on holiday. It would stay if it wished to, leave if it didn’t. My heart caught in my throat as your words mood swept me with a deep desire for your eternal presence.

Our bodies blurred and blended in the flickering candlelight, projecting the deep velvety shades of classical desire. I rose above the stark silence of St Clair, my soul reaching a height I never knew existed. Deep within, energy hummed, a warmth I’d always yearned for and felt nestled inside me.

Momentarily present, cupping flowing water in my palms, my mouth parched yet loud. As the water cascades between my spread fingers, I scream silently, my heart dropping to my knees. I am watching you lie there, unaware that I am baring my soul to you, distracted by the view outside our deceptive window.

You do not answer me as I stroke your troubled cheeks, glistening with tears in the candlelight. The world outside that window lures you, to seek the life that lived in those shadows, the feel of the world at pace as you rode.

Wrapping myself in the opaque cotton of a classically weaved crimson dress, elevating my spirit from the sunken depths of departure as I trek across the gloom sweep of last night’s fever. If there was a dream to be satiated, across the windswept sea of ancient, rustic stones, I would sort and sift it through the rubble and embrace it with my soul.

Hind leaves, flickering backwards towards my heart. They are fading lenses of a memory of a love that pivoted on its heels and disappeared. As your silhouetted body warps once more into the luminous fog, I feel it dripping its tears across my unspoken heart.

It is your touch that still burns with soul. It lingers on my skin, engulfing my heart with a flood of tidal waves. I am drowning at sea inside, waiting for you to rescue me.

All I can hear in the pitch black silence, is the neighing of horses, wild and free, out in the open. In the night I stumble drunkenly, trying to seek you amidst the rising, barrel beating of hoofs and chaos.

In silence, the gloom is penetrable, slicing through the eerie indifference that has dug its home within the bush and bracken. To peer through the pit posts of architecture: tall wooden beams that escalate, yet tip. A gradual disintegration of the home that once enclosed our love. The walls rip and curse, releasing themselves from the trappings of foundations. Big logs of wood roll and thunder across the grassy, worn depths of my soul.

Wild and free you were, at change with the seasons. As the burning summer arrived, your heart pounded with eagerness. The beats of adventure drew you outside that window, atop your mare and out into the wilderness.

You were gone for an age, days seeping into a fog of months that never seemed to turn and head my way. When you returned, you were distanced, going through the motions, drinking deep whisky, driving me away.

Should I stay or should I go?

As the dandelion seeds escape my palm, taking flight at my breath, I cannot wish for anything. Rather, I watch them twist around the windswept pillars of our deteriorating home, abandoning them for adventure elsewhere.

Dashing forward, I shake deeply inside as I anticipate the shocking sound. The boom of collapse, as our once loved walls fall to the ground.

Closing my eyes, I place my hands over my heart and wait for the tears that no longer fall. I am a sun soaked, dry well that appreciates the soothing rains that finally fall. It is time to go.