Love is never a fair witness,
As only the humming in ears
That continually yearn
For the timeless breaths
Unveiled from simple lips
That never kissed another pair,
Departed from the moon
To hold a neck in a bite.

Her slight,
Her state in knowing
Love from the disarranged image
Has made me write the message
That a bottle for the drunk
Cannot hold.
Intoxicated, as I am,
By breath and bone.

By a nail stuck upright from the coffin,
Allowing air,
There is some life
To the lonely strife,
Of three simple words that can come forth
From the nectar that drops off her humming lips,
As the bird before the prey,
Singing for lonely stars.

She can send her wings forward,
Folding branches against limbs
Of my own,
Within aching scenery.

She spent her mockery upon a thousand cuts
Upon a broken stem
That raised itself from her heart,
Wandering to a mirror.
For her face, she saw insects,
Not beauty.
A small mite has intruded her locks,
Full with auburn,
Among silver highlights.
Of one worn year
To a love that never gave sight to fear,
Except to an oncoming day
Of Betrayal’s betrayal,
A haunting of innumerable cuts.

Bled from open sores,
Wandering
To a mirror where fractures were to her face,
The sounds of a silenced heart.
A thousand tiny cuts
Upon a stem that bloomed raven feathers
From her heart
To the mirror, before her black eyes.
Like love never tore open
To see secrets, manifold,
Open wounds, like open books,
Graven flesh, like the cripple yearning to walk
From a tomb.

Piloting backwards
To a flame that churns a future
In a past,
Life strokes the veins
Where tongues can grab satiation,
Where devils can roam their extras,
Where a man can send his son
To eclipse a hundred wars.

Beauty mimics tragedy
In the retreat of a horn,
Never the soldier.

Loosened
Raindrops, keep falling
From some ocean in your eyes.
You keep crying
For whom,
I know not.
The world spins wildly
Upon your pained shoulders,
As you sit to grieve,
While I stare in disbelief
That you cannot rise
To meet something other than
The look in your eyes,
Other than, where you may die.

Pointed at your reflection,
What can be
Of that rejection,
Of relief?
Just love, I offer,
Though, you’ll keep weeping.
Chestnut hair
Accompanies strain, in every feeble lock
That descends in growth
Past your bleak eyes.
Of falling rain
That centers in your sight upon the clock
Where time can only arrange itself
In your disheveled garbs.

How can this life of you
Sit, so idly,
Counting stars,
Reminiscing over scars,
With wine held in a shivering hand?

Blood rounds itself
In the sweetness of a sugar rush,
The bitterness of a memory train
Where the iron upon the tracks
Screeches and never halts.

She sought to set out
Upon the streaming sea,
Of colors glistening,
Along with her hair.
Her eyes
Matched the fewest sunrays
That still stood in appearance
To the eastern skyline.
Golden resplendence,
Showering radiance
Matches an occurrence
To the cracks of a broken heart.

She sought to oar out
A rowboat to the furthest expanse,
Search for her heart,
Find her lost path.
She sought a route out of
Her stagnancy.
Her eyes watched the men
With their paddles and oars,
With their looks to never subside
Of determined fervor.
Of one shattered heart, to her,
There can be this reprieve.

Jostled,
Flaming
Of face with fan of wind,
She sets out to the naked skyline
To bleed a mile of yearning
Without cause.
A simple proof
To bring the parts,
The strewn tears,
To gather a whole
As one, of a heart made for warmth
Treasured in a basket full with flowers,
To primrose and lilac.

Caught,
The seamlessness
Of one word that could collapse
Me, to these very knees.
One word to love,
One heart to take,
Never anything to break.
I will soothe all concern
Shouldered upon you,
Weathered over you,
Through
One favored kiss.

Your eyes,
Full of Heaven’s rise
In the bliss,
Within the kiss
To a pair of lips,
Among the perfumed neck,
And the graceful swing
Of your embracing arms.
I will hold
Your form, in its shivering,
As nothing escapes,
As nothing forsakes.

In your eyes,
Deep within
A glance that cannot run,
Cannot be undone
Of its scenery
To winded glades,
Timeless vows,
Bent knees
Of where I am
Wanting to hold you
In arms full of gravity,
To then dine on your stare.

As grief
Possesses voice,
Like the crossed showers
Glistening to the tears
Upon my streaming face.
White-wilted flowers
Form their stems,
To never the regrowth
Of more petals,
For I cannot love more
Than ever I did her.

Like voice
Given to the rain that pours
Love, through my storming heart,
As thunder bellows of a throat
So raw
To the stained vintage
Of a thousand photographs of deceit,
That a love had gifted only grief.
Just a memory of something shattered,
Just a one that never mattered,
And, now as one that merely showers.

Can I see
Through the rain,
To see you, in the gleam?
Can you walk back
To the puddles in my arms?
I wish to stare through
To eyes that never stare back.

Can you count the stars
With me?
With me,
Can you weary me
More than my heart ever could
When drowned by the feathers
Of your so-light love?

How can he
State his fate
With only air to grip
In empty palm?
The pain that has sunk
His heart into a stone
Has been squeezed
Of every last tear.
Just a man,
Only a man
Who wears no crown,
With his queen
Looking down.

His face curves,
His shoulders burn
Of their residue.
Just blank ashes
That cannot remember from where
They fell.
Love, he sees
Of her,
In the trees,
Faint winds carrying scents
Of her, in sweetest escape
From blanketing meadows,
From the ever-worn glades.

He carted her
Heavy, in vowing arms
That raised the gates of forts
To shut out the massacre
Of a thousand other women.
Her carted her
To the burial of a forgotten few,
Whose eyes were still seeing Heaven,
The vow of a man who hadn’t fallen,
Not like the angel whose stand
Had soon reached the sand.
He carted her
To where he departed her
In the place where he could love her.

For just a second more,
To love her,
To cast his eyes upon fragility’s melting state,
With pity to his every shift
For movement that no longer mattered,
In a sadness that for tears, been gathered.