By: Mitch Green

I took her breath into my lungs – all of it.

Intoxication never hit so hard; that surreal spin submersing beneath my humanity with enough influence to drive me off the ledge from this prodigal possession. It was all a mistake to witness the light from her eyes wane into shades of white – before slipping from the space we built.

A flood had become my hands,

Painting, pouring this world anew.

In return for the destroyed, ruined and broken aftermath, which would cure me.

I came to realize that I was not the miracle,

Rather a pick axe prying into the frozen; more frigid than chaotic.

Breaking the fracture even further to splinter, even further, until the oceans were set free.

Red tides befitting a revolution.

Of just you and I.

We need not mortal wears, but only to sit before the acid seas, with a shot glass in one hand and ours in each other’s.

With our bone smiles left to endure the dawn of that summer night.

*****

Mitch Green, 25, is currently attending SNHU (Southern New Hampshire University) to acquire his BA in Creative Writing, with a minor in Screenwriting. He has written and have had published several poetic collections known as: ‘Rhymes of Sin’, ‘Godart’, ‘Paint Me Odd’, and ‘Monsters’ – which will be released later this month.