Darling Gale

Gale was a mystery,
Never a whispered mystery, rather a mystery sung by the howling chorus of choirs
Bellowed by the rampant tempest and illuminated by the bonfires of love, loss, and passion
The angel who left me cigarettes to smoke away six years and a million tears
Gale was a painting
Never composed of ideas, rather light and shadow, silence and noise
Celestial faces and coarse hands, flesh and the devil
If love still exists he ensured I'd be completely his with his kiss
Gale was a pit
A vast cauldron where hope and fear, dedication and impulse are burned together
My lips are still burnt with the taste of his mouth
Gale was a pier
Forever dark, sensual, and profoundly moving
Dark enough to see my light still shinning as I let him go
Gale was a torrent
Destined to surge away from my reach
Before the world and I polluted its feral perfection