Sometimes, upon when I lay my head
Atop a pillow, I will see the edges of your form
Taking shape at the foot of my bed.
I see the tears that begin to float
Away from my eyes,
And you’d catch them, with hands open for their approach.
What will you say
When the day comes,
When you will see me alive, only clinging to life
By a narrow thread?
What shall you feel
Upon when the day arrives
To see me come home
To a nest full of embers, as my only abode?
I see you as the edges, at the end of a world where we had nestled,
And my blood grows cold
At the sight of you, merging in with the greenish mold.
The decay of a place,
Has left me without a trace, of where to cast a solid stone.
Her tears were for my cup,
To count of every drop.
Her eyes were the lakes for me to dip my feet,
And to bathe within their frozen stare.
Her pain and her sorrow
Will last for every tomorrow.
My beating heart,
And her legs that walk
The miles across landscapes wet with the contents
Of her bleeding spirit.
My beating heart
Resonates not with her collapsed mind.
Plagues of dew
Are so very new
To my own sight, on the rocks that cling themselves
To her bare throat,
Where the ocean motions itself
Against such hardness, with such coldness.
Love was once between us,
As the warmth, to hold the sun in our arms
Like a babe with innocence to share.
Like two stars that softly fade,
Among a world destined to never miss
The greater coldness among the warming kiss.
Passed upon myself,
Was her shadow.
Like to pass over my disused and torn spirit,
After a love shattered,
Like the bottle I cling to.
I attempted to ignore,
Though, it kept calling,
As it kept me company.
Beside myself, flesh over a drunken spirit.
Inside myself, with ignorance overdone,
I only slept with myself, last night,
Like some pauper in the wilderness of buildings
Where from each wall hangs a streetlight.
I only slept among the shadows,
Especially the one, near to me.
For she was there, to keep me company.
She was there to see me in my misery.
She was there to hear my cries,
Of panic and fear,
With delicate droplets of spirit
Like the stars to stare upon, in my wanderlust.
Drunken upon my worn identity,
In clothing strewn upon wounded flesh.
I am still new to the mourning.
I am much like the dew in the morning
That simply sits there, to fall.
I once folded her memory
In my arms,
During the night.
Her sight, so meant to be long gone
With the tide,
With the currents that fall away from my eyes,
As agony floats along.
I once did this
With the same feeling,
Of a million sleeping years.
I had bled eternal blue
For as far as the sky stretched.
To the horizon, where my eyes were taken
Where distant flakes of snow
Fell to my parched and dry lips,
Fell to my aching and sandy heart.
Upon this shore,
Where dust is all I now grasp,
I wonder how the beach distanced itself
From the ocean.
Ever wielded, aside from the one stained in black?
Longing is our token, to betterment,
Away from the association of togetherness.
Like love, mistaken for a parasite,
Like loss, perceived to be foremost
A coming mile
Is not what we walk.
It only holds us to reap a new darkness
That is the one behind.
In arms, delicate and un-moving.
We are glass pieces, cutting flesh along the bone.
We are two mirrors, shattered against the other,
And no reflection is here, to comprehend what we once had.
Our love is no more, upon meadows now burned beneath the blue
Of a sky no longer comprehending the why.
Because, even God sees us, and He, too, weeps.
I am watchful, upon your barren form
That no alonger moves with each subtle sigh.
Your arms will no longer sway when you decide to dance,
Your hips, the same.
And for each ruby lip that I had always aimed to kiss,
There is only Hell for the life I dearly miss.
Hold your head in the snow
You once lifted a thousand years, upon your now-lifeless shoulders
That could not support life,
But, the face that smiled upon you, in our life
Was enough to let the curtain fall, and drink up this new strife.
Where did we dance,
Beneath the moon?
Where did we kiss,
Beneath the sun,
Where during each moment,
We had a gleam upon our forms?
And love was the one thing to famously embrace us both,
In our heat.
You had died
Before we both lived.
You now live among the curtain of your hair
That makes many trails over your shoulders
Seemingly to never see the brightness of life,
That the sun wondrously achieved.
Don’t despair in your newness,
For I know you will haunt me.
Like two bleeding suns,
My palms were crushed
Under the weight of your heavy form
That dropped from the bleak monochrome.
I saw what would have shocked me,
Were I not already knowing it.
Your form is inescapable,
Like a palette to an artist,
He wields it like a shield,
While his eyes are the color that he perceives
With every carefully aligned stroke
Of a brush, the sword.
Your form, like the mark that conceals all defeat
That washes up to my toes.
Your form, with beauty and weakness, itself,
Has danced as though to enthrall me,
Above my exposed grave.
You would kiss me, to rob me, to reveal me, to heal me.
Love, like a temple, upon the rocks,
Upon the stones that shimmer beneath fallen hues
From a sun, from two suns,
My eyes, my palms, and both are crushed
Under the weight of your demise.
What had been lifted,
Is now fallen
Upon the fields where there used to sprout yellow,
And now only sprouts the red of shame.
What was once golden in the light of companionship
Is now a feeble mess of disgrace.
We had danced
Beneath the whip of survival.
Sought to kiss, beyond the waves and the endless morrows.
We had sailed
Under choirs that called for life
To come to our hearts, by the touch of our hands.
Love is that mark upon our watchful eyes.
For I marked every curve that entrenched itself
In your wondrous form.
I saw with astonishment
The beauty you folded over me
And went down to kiss it, to never leave it.
But, to break an obstacle, means to border on obsession;
To kill a problem, means to forget sanity;
To deny myself, means to forsake eternity.
I was in love, with a woman.
And now, she is broken, within,
Like two hands that never met.
Like two hands that never slept
In the other,
Where love and bliss was kept,
Because, that brokenness was the irreparable wound.
What can I save, now,
My hands wet with the dew
That has crossed my eyelids,
And dropped with grace
Upon the flesh of my palms,
As I fell to my knees.
I bleed wine, from my wrists,
And bleed the sea, from my eyes.
And, bitterness encompasses both.
Late when the feeling comes to subside,
Under the boughs and brambles of this winter season,
I dip into the moon, with my mind weighing
Heavy upon a thought.
The thought of you, once held in my arms,
The thought of the silver, that leaked in happiness
From your eyes.
You saw my face,
You saw the light that drained upon the tears
Swelling from your face.
You were the happiness that is now gone.
Late when the feeling begins to arise,
Like the tide that the moon pulls,
Like the tears that the night releases,
Like my face that ends up trembling
Under the weight of it all,
I come to fathom only the distance,
Between me and the feeble night’s own light,
And never the closeness.
And what seat have I placed myself
When beside me, seats only a space?
My Queen had bled
A drop of melted snow into the soil,
And its color was red.
For a King with his vulnerable self
Is merely a man.
I dreamed sweetness, of softness
Before the morning arose,
And when it died,
I imagined the sun as your rising face,
Delighted to see me.
I flood now tears to the pillow
Beneath my aching head.
Like a wilderness above my brow,
I hold negligence to myself,
In the many uncut tresses,
As though my tears are watering the wildness
Of my pain.
Late, when knights in armor turn to part,
I see shadows in their black attire,
And a woman’s form in the shadows.
I see merely the protection that still has kept me
Away from handling my fate.
In all the time, I had thought
The tears to be worth their sour taste,
I was wrong in my mind, to know
That in our place,
There would be eternity.
Love is a power against the impossible,
I do not want to border myself on obsession.
It is a madness that
Makes both those who reject it, and embrace it,
Against the impossible
Is not such a human feat.
It is a godly one,
And against the impossible of your broken body,
There was only defeat.
I now see only distortion,
In these words and syllables.
Madness knocks upon my mind’s door
Like a few pebbles against a window
During a storm.
Because, I know
And I detest it,
That I have rejected not you,
But the ultimate feeling called love.
The door between
Our stamped feet,
While our forms rise out of bases,
Sent forth towards the skies,
Sent forth towards the blue,
While our tears keep raining.
I do not see what is outside of a window
As the blissful blue of summer.
Only the navy of loneliness
Has ever been my bitter kiss.
And now there is a door before me,
And it is one I cannot dare myself to open
To see your streaming face.
Your form, I realize, is rent asunder.
But, it wasn’t with fault.
Within, you were broken, and I would seek a cure
If you’d allow.
But, you’ll repeat the word “impossible”,
Without allowing an attempt.
A door, perhaps to you?
A door, perhaps to that cure
That will seek its way into yourself
And find itself pure.
I am lost, without you,
I am nothing, without you.
But, I will live, because you want me to