Ghost clouds gather over ice cold oceans
of marble we can’t break through. Maybe
there was something deeper below the depths
we dared not dive. Breath is naked. Movement
muffed. Air rigid. There is nothing left to cover up.

I blush under your absence or do I blush
before the cold truth; this is it, we are alone,
one day we will end. All we have failed to learn
will fall through space like stars, burnt out before begun.

We are flames, in oceans, dying to be seen.


All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

This is a remixed repost for a week of gazing at clouds.



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