Incandescence

The layered sky is painted in

washed out tones of a fading day.

I hold the beautiful scene in the frame of my gaze

until night diffuses ink into the vaulted heavens.

Sails of white spectres float against

a dwindling cold crescent,

sulking in a pool of muted light.

Only the last constellation of fireflies

shatter the seamless ocean of shadows,

as they blink fiery trysts in the bleak yonder.

On the outside, I am at peace with

the stillness of solitude.

Within, a different kind 

of incandescence is seething

Shattering the quietude in my ribcage

Bolts of fire violently bombard walls 

of my glass heart

A thunderous pounding 

that implores your closeness.