I gave from within
The merriment of a certain whim,
Gifted from a heart, made of solidified embers.
Of the sparks that dance sideways with the twisting breezes,
I was the angel without a voice, who gave unto the distant
My heart, with itself in drenched pale hues.
She, a woman with deepening hurts,
I could not let her see another bloody tomorrow
That aligns against the grain of her yesterdays.
I was there to console,
And even more, to take the toll.
Love was the sun, that kept its brightness
Shining on our golden faces.
Love, without the tears,
Will still exhaust
For the many spent years,
Held upon, in utmost fears.
I still believed, a dream to not fade from my sight,
Yet, it turned itself over to an apparent blight
That had nested in her form,
One that I hoped to embrace beneath the sheets, so white.
Love was but a dream,
That did nothing but scream.