Your crystalline blues
rolled back in their sockets
like daylight saving
resetting clocks to a time
of better choices.
From the bedside I watched
you coil and unfurl, as hot and
cold fought for control of your body
sweat and chills in
flux
I watched as the fever dreams stirred
and hung low like the clouds
of a Texas storm where you lay.
We watched in shifts
beside you
through the passing days
and quietly rejoiced
as the weather in you
waned, to make way for
calm.
We watched you emerge
through the storm cellar doors
into clear blue skies
wounded but alive.
We rejoiced in your triumph,
stood in awe of your strength,
and trusted your newfound desire
naively.
Some days after you departed west,
a phone call came
and bedlam spoke from a low-hanging cloud
it said:
There is no breath
and his lips are
blue.
--J. R. C. Cross, 07/08/2026
Theme : Carpe Diam / Death