Your Panacea

If not wax wings, you shall grow feathers,
The star you see is but a brightness of the eye
And the nights that envelope your senses are but my silken stresses,
The soft cheek, those opulent lips, your lissome desire shall pass by.

You'll stand alone, construed and misconstrued,
The wrath within will burn, for now it keeps you warm.
The redolent softness of the morning sky is discomforting
And your heartbeat is the eye of the storm.

A nonchalant smile is enough to murder your soul,
Proud, adamant, you'll lock it safe in your mind,
Those chatoyant jewels are your companions of the endless nights
My footsteps will resound in your being but you'll find no one, don't look behind.

The dalliance of our fingers will haunt your dreams,
I, the penumbra, will grant you neither darkness nor the light.
Run, your eyes can behold my form no more,
You let your panacea go, my ebullient laughter will fill your mind, cold and bright.

And when the petrichor will tingle your senses and drive you wild
Remember the teardrops, pearls lost in the dark,
The sweet shadows of our memories will sit quietly in a soft corner if one still exists,
You will be blinded by the beauty, once your elixir, now scornful and stark.