Nox Noctis
by
darkstar


Disclaimer: Like I said, Logan's mine. Fox can have all the rest, but Wolvie-boy is MINE. Don't even think about sending those lawyers. I have deployed land mines in the front yard for just such occasion.

Archive: i would be honored, only please let me know :)

Author's Notes: I warned you that the latest stories had gotten me in the mood. Here is the end result. I'm still wondering where exactly this came from, but here goes. . .

note : Nox Noctis is Latin for "night"

---

Night stretches on her bed of twilight,
languid fingers twisting jasmine incense and perfume
through the plaited locks of ebony sky.
A moonbeam smile, sanguine lips parting
to flash white-teeth starlight through latticed windows
until it sparkles in the diamonds of a bracelet
on the girl's bare arm.
The man watches her and debates which is palest,
the diamonds or the moonlight or the skin.
(It is not a question which could kill.
The moonlight of course.
It sucks away at the souls of men,
and this he knew from deeper nightmares.
Her skin would only wound his flesh.
His soul already lived in her, so how could
it be touched?)

and he lets his reflection drown in eyes
too young to be so old
and he whispers
half to their ghosts. half to the eyes.

you must know, i am a fool,
in the tradition of Romeo
who defied stars in name of love
and drank death dry, unafraid,
all for the sake of one woman.
i too have lain restless between sheets
and cursed the icy gods above.
i too have tasted of the bitter drug
for sake of you.

you must know, i am fallen,
in tradition of Icarus
who dared to fly into the sun
even if the wings were wax,
all for the joy of the flight.
i too have leapt from the earth
and flown toward your burning soul.
i have felt the logic melt away,
but i love the fall.

Night tiptoes through her garden of stars,
searching for the petals of the rarest dream flower
to quicken the blood of mortal passions.
The east wind whispers the shared secret
of the candle light and the shadows on walls.
Both veil the still-angry scars latticing the windows
of the man's bare soul.
The girl watches him and debates which is feared,
the darkness or the fire or the past.
(It is not a question which could consume.
The fire, of course.
It singed the fibers of her every vein,
roaring every time he breathed her name.
The past would never burn that way.
And his fire never left pain, so how could
she be afraid?)

and she lets her reflection drown in eyes
ages old yet newborn in her,
and she whispers,
half to their scars, half to the eyes

you must know, I am a fool,
in the tradition of Juliet,
who dared believe in more than life
and flung wide eternity's doors
all for sake of her love.
i too believe in what eyes see not
and what only spirits feel.
i too would dive into eternity
for sake of you.

you must know, I am fallen,
in the tradition of Aphrodite,
who surrendered deity to love a man,
even though it terrified her,
all for the joy of the kiss.
i too have leapt from innocence,
and plummeted to the world that was you.
i too have shivered at awakening
that will crash the rocks into my bones.

but i love the fall.



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