Poem – “As Your Eyes Slowly Shut” – Romance – 12/12/2019

Had that pillow caressed your feeble head
More than ever my hand could?
In such comfort that death could provide
To your ever-more feeble body
With its trembling motions, alike the quivering leaves during Autumn,
I see your chest raise itself, to a peak,
And fall down,
You may be ill,
Though, you are in comfort.

And, I am jealous of death,
“To have and to hold,”
As I once said, while our worlds collided,
Into moons,
And never were burned,
Unless beneath sheets, made for that familiar singe.
Death will embrace you
Better than myself.
And, I will be seated here, as a witness.

Comforted by what death provides
The pillow and the bed, beside
Your enamored and lifted sighs,
Safety is now where you reside.

Upon the world’s end, I look across
To see a face that once begged, in a plea.
Stillness was once for your form,
When I touched its warmth.
And now when death has its arms about yourself,
You feel warmth in the coldness.

Prose – “The Circle of Gold” – Romance – 12/11/2019

He sat himself there, among the ghosts that surrounded his form. A hand in one other, his beloved’s, with a circle of gold still about the third finger from the pointer. During times his mind is focused, he draws his thumb to that circle of gold, and places it there. And for a moment, he remembers the time when only happiness ever marked itself upon her features.

Cast with deep shadows, is this moment where death has a place in the center. Coming death, and now this man holds the hand of his dying wife. Stricken with an ailment from a doctor’s book, it would seem pointless to name which, as this man’s heart is now being folded in two. A contortion, as it is, that puts an unfathomable pain upon him. His eyes are no longer eyes. Two droplets of tears have replaced them.

He looks upon her with as much sadness allotted to his withering spirit, about to stir itself into a state of frenzied grief.

The tears descend, as he notices she cannot speak. He is only listening to her breaths, as each one fades into the next, one more of them lighter than the last.

Little breaths that seem to not want to lift themselves, for him, to a state of liveliness. For life has a breath for its own design, like the wind that pushes a creature forward, to take another step. She cannot, for she is soon to pass away from this man, her husband. Her eyes are closed, and upon the face of death, she stares.

What does this face appear as, except for what we usually describe to be the blackest in appearance?

Dark, as one may describe, is what death appears as, though not so much as the white of a new life, born into a world of after-forever. A memory lives on so easily. It is not ever that evil will move, when love is the breath of life, and here is death, making an impossible-to-breach barricade before this passing woman.

White, as the new light of a new sun, for that afterlife to make itself present in the heart of a one, a grieving one, who is bleeding a new wound.

Her hair falls as thin strips of faded brown, discolored only by her age, which to this man, made her even more beautiful. Though, to look upon her, in this state, is for his mind to question whether beauty still remains upon herself.

Her face is already the look of death.

The highlight of that weakness, the charm of life to be rested, to be loved, to be stilled, and away from the meddlers to life, is that barricade, previously described.

“I am sad,” says the man, with eyes full of tears, and heart full of woe. “I am terribly sad,” said the man, adding the adverb as way to push the expression forth, from himself, to the breath that he, himself, releases. For he is alive, when his wife is about to breathe a final sigh to the cold kiss of death.

Next, he says to her, “Love will always be in my heart, no matter how open it is to the wound, so fresh to see; I won’t allow our memories to spill from it. And more than all else, I won’t become bitter to the pain, despite how horrible it tastes. A wound, my own wound, won’t harden with a scar so hideous, so I won’t remember our love, in peace. I will mold that scar into a shape, resembling your once-beautiful face.”

Poem – “The Part of Love that Remains” – Romance – 12/11/2019

An empty home is a tragedy
To what has revealed itself, upon a day in destiny.
We are two petals over curves,
And over our memories,
Where salvation lies buried, awaiting,
The new snows to descend, upon the beautiful other.
The little face you show, revealing perplexity.
The tears you rain from two eyes, crystalline, in form.
Every piece of dread that was for a past,
Is now a part of love, that remains.

Because, I wished for something that would sway me,
Entice me,
Soothe me,
Into new heights.
I had not asked for the snow to descend,
Nor for your tears to rain,
My famed beauty.
For you are the reveal of grief,
In this barren heart, of mine,
In this barren house, once was ours.

Now but a ghost, you are,
That lies clinging to my limp arms,
Long as the sea, going infinite,
Alike the Hell we, as well
Cling upon,
In this shameful destiny.
A wonderful woman, you once were,
With eyes that only streamed happiness,
Now a placement upon despair,
As shadows are your only company.

We are but a world, or two, apart,
Formed as children for our loathsome, beating hearts.

Poem – “A Love Well-Lived” – Romance – 12/11/2019

Believe the beast who cried,
“My shape is not how it should seem,
Because, I belong in the arms of another,
And not the arms of shadows!”

Torment came over the beast who gnawed at its arms,
A man with but a shadow for a reflection.
One gaze into the mirror,
And a silhouette was all to notice,
Of himself,
And of the world, around.

He lost himself,
Among the haze of negligence,
Until a woman entered the cave.
Her eyes a set a pearls,
Her form a structure of marble,
And her legs walked as if she were the most graceful antelope
To be heard, in her steps, in her gait,
Gentle, on the stone, where she paced.

His eyes penetrated her own,
And saw her heart,
Full with ripe kindness.
His desires quickened in this moment,
And he lunged!
Upon her, what were kisses from him
Were jaws clenching each limb.
And, she screamed a more terrible cry than ever he did.

“What have I done wrong?”
Questioned the man, the beast,
And she said,
“I wandered to this place, to appease my curious self,
But, I see you, so marked by your own torment.
Do you chew yourself,
As you do me?”

And he replied,
“I do not mean to,
But, my mind is not eased.
I only meant to kiss you.”

A smile lit her lips
To where a light shone over her head.
A blinding light,
That gave gravity a new definition,
In the book of Webster.

Little lips that smiled, then asked,
“Why are you in pain,
When all I wanted was to offer you that kiss?”

“That light! That light!”
Cried the beast.

“Why are you in pain?”
Asked she.

“That light! That light!”
Echoed the beast, now only a memory to her,
For when she left, she turned her head to look back,
And forever looked back,
Stuck in that memory

As the mere shadow, it is.

Poem – “A Higher Light” – Romance – 12/11/2019

Before betrayal turned my heart into an orb of stone,
Before the music of selfish attraction,
Brought my listening ears close,
I realized upon a day when truth glistened on my mind,
That I was merely a child,
With his feet dipped into the blood of a mother,
A simple thing
Of no complex ways.

A massive enemy to innocence, made my mind soar
Towards a higher light.
With decay now upon my lips, and twilight at my eyes,
A moon for a face, and death that seems to be distant,
Out of reach for an end, lacking desire to celebrate
A life well-lived, for nothing had been taken away.
Beauty was with that innocent expression,
Because, the ugliness of age, became the only torment.

A face, now full with the rays from love,
From a woman sent down from the Heaven, above.
Her lips touched my own,
Drowned my pain in the deepest murk
And the fastest current,
Cleansed the murk, that was the basement
To my mind.
And, I saw where my future headed.

Poem – “In Arms, Forever…” – Romance – 12/11/2019

Together, and now
When we will allow
Ourselves, to spit upon the blight,
The doubt,
That held us back,
There is green upon the leaves, when autumnal frost still cakes them.
I am in belief, that this love will flourish, with a crown of blood droplets,
Rubies, tears from the form,
And sapphire, tears from the face.
We are together, in arms, forever…
To bleed upon the world, what we worship.

We are blooded and tearful,
Made for the caresses, in a thousand waterfalls.
We stand in an idle position, never to suffer, again,
Love makes us apples and pears,
Adorned in the sweetest honey.
Breasts, for wielding,
And a form for tasting,
Is yours, as mine, at the command of my fingertips
And tongue.

Where will your beauty flourish,
Upon the next arrival of another day?
Perhaps in the many spaces we gather buds,
And petals, having sprouted
From the soil of a field,
Within your mind, a place once a virgin, high above
Near your brow?

Love forms a wedding for our joy.
Death will not disavow a memory which we employ.
We stay among the highest embrace,
With tears and sapphire, blood and rubies.

Poem – “Gathered & Desperate Eyes” – Romance – 12/11/2019

A night without the embrace from thee,
Is a night I’ll never be desperate to see,
Upon the time when you return from across the waves,
To see the defiled me,
And know that the sun has run from me.
The sun, as you, my created light,
A single candle that stands with tapered form,
And a wrist that is scarred from pretend suicide,
Because, where could our love be, besides drowned in blood?
Your wish, my command, and our love, this demand.

“Desperation is a weapon,”
As once was written,
And what sword is drawn?
What trigger is pulled,
Upon when love begins to seduce Hell,
Into a Heaven of sleep?

We motion in our kisses, staining ourselves red with the entrancement,
And dance, beside ourselves, in lowest moons, and highest suns,
We bleed aromas upon the other, with denial to any moment in time
Being the end to our amorous stares, and lonesome caresses.

I am a man without any might,
You are a woman without the night,
I am a man with a mark upon his mouth,
When you were a woman who did bite.
When were we people who did fight?
When were we those who were drowned in spite?
Work, cherished work, to make it right,
Denial of time, in blinding light,
When our desires could only tell the other, for the sight.

The other, for the love,
The peacefulness, as the dove,
Beauty reigns when chosen well,
Love reigns when raised from Hell.