She had the brightest eyes whenever morning came, a guiding light, a golden thread, my soul, surrendering to her spell, enchanted and enraptured. Eyes like the Irish Sea, like watching the sun rise on sand covered steps, with a cigarette and last night’s cider, intoxicated but wide awake.

I recall a thrilling fall from grace,secrets seeping into the once clean air,turning it to thick, dark smoke that turned the morning sky to coal.I called to you from my tower window,my hair wouldn’t cooperate,so you scaled the walls until your fingertips ran red,and I pulled you through the broken glass,the two of us,still on…