At night, I drift among stars in an ether that is mine.
Cobbled stairs twist before me in this strange place,
and a scythe-like moon shines up from below.
Our swing is motionless in hazy spotlight somewhere at the top.
I can't see it anymore, but I can always feel it.
Standing at the foot, I'm stuck,
terrified of what I'll find ahead; more-so of what I'll leave behind.
For a decade, I've shaped memories of us together
into packaged dreams,
labeled pensively with your name.
When I try to dig one up, ink hemorrhages from fissures in my skin
and my mouth clogs up with poet's blood.
Who are you to me?
The question is a deserter in pale cursive wisps.
You're nowhere near to read them when they're set free,
and they vanish before I re-cage them.
We've stumbled through time, less forward than back,
you and I,
and we've learned to blame an intangible beast for our misery;
a beast we bore, made our own,
and sometimes love more than we should.
It's what has been and what will always be between us.
Why? you ask.
Truth is, I could never make you understand with words,
and you'll never know without them.
The opening lines already sets such a divine atmosphere that I can wonder what it would be like to drift among stars. The idea of the cobbled stairs to the heavens connects with me that this would indeed be experiencing something new, venturing into a new realm of discovery. I love how you then voice that fear of moving ahead, like you may not be able to return or will forget everything on earth, or your grounded memories. One of my favorite lines: "When I try to dig one up, ink hemorrhages from fissures in my skin and my mouth clogs up with poet's blood". That is such a distinct image that screams and I feel it screams your fear, fear of the unknown and that this dream may not be as satisfying and fulfilling as you wished. The question of "Who are you to me?" is striking as it carries such self-reflection with it. We do have to think of our impact on others but also how others impact us. Why do we spend time with certain people? What are our reasons? Is it love? Commitment? The mention of the beast in the last few stanzas was neat, as it may not have a certain name but you both almost created it and it stands between you so to speak. I feel like this could relate to vices in our lives that act as barriers to living in the present, or having goals in the future and actively pursuing them. I am almost speechless in the ending. This person close to you is finally asking a question, the why, and there seems to be a point where you cannot understand each other anymore, even in plain words, some things aren't known to this person and that brings a sad aspect to this poem. Well-written! (10)