Shadowclutch

I made a wish on fallen peridot,

that streaked across night's Prussian blue vellum.

It coalesced at your feet,

shimmering,

and I lapped up the dazzle of it,

thirsty,

but you never fully filled my cup,

every day pouring less and less

until I drank sand.

I clung to the coattails of your shadow,

white knuckle gripping that gray ghost of hope,

until the sun rose,

and only my nail marks on the wall

remained.