It's Still Life

Peripherals

The centre dissolves—
but the edges bloom
wild and electric.
A flicker of moth-wing,
the sly grin of doorframes
as the world reshuffles
into a deck of half-guesses.

Vision now means
watching the air
dance with what
it won’t let you hold.

There are memories
still tattooed on your lids.
Let the periphery preach
its gospel of shadows—
each blur a velvet rebellion
against the sun’s sharpness.

And in dreams and sleep,
even the night knows
to fold away its knives
when tenderness
is this raw.

Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial use. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2025.