Silence falls as darkness comes
bleeding colour from the earth.
Alone I sit, screen lit, waiting for sleep to find me.

It's there we meet,
there we create sparks of light to rival galaxies.
There is no beauty finer than that created in nether worlds,
tales woven through darkness and sub conscious need,
while demons weep at the beauty of our souls.

Tides may change at the moon's behest,
daylight mocks our longing
yet we remain steadfast
You my flotsam, I your jetsam
tossed within life's currents,
while we cling to our conscience
in hope of repair.
Praying into the void for forgiveness and the dimming of the sun,
that we may dream once more.

I sit and watch the sunrise,
as life unwanted 
courses through my veins.

Once I saw the joy in morning
It's quiet wonder would lift my eyes,
nature awakened by it's tender kiss
as I breathed it's sweet perfume.

I see no glory now
there is no song lilting gently on a breeze.
All birds have flown
only silence remains.

I will hang my heart on broken bough
to rot amongst the fading blossoms
and bow,prostrate before the coming storm.

You, the keeper of tides
silvering shadowed streets,
illuminating the hush
as sleeping infants dream.
Tonight your light
will touch troubled hearts
with bone-chilled fingers.
Be gentle, sweet Luna
let them know the sun will come.

Always choose words wisely
as they can do such harm
use them not to wound or hurt
belittle or disarm
for confidence is fragile
it masks the truer self
that child inside wrapped tight in scars
that dare not love itself.

I remember you well
at the halfway hotel
dusty corduroy ragged
shambling shoes smiling
toothless and untethered.

You, shop door keeper
sidewalk sleeper
a torrent of tall tales
and misery sweet
You, invisible to those
who see beauty 
in possessions alone
while all you possess
hangs in blue plastic noose
from your weathered hand.

Me, the bearer of bread
hot soup for the soul
and soft blanket warmth.
We settle together
to watch the world wane
You tell me your story
hushed tones as sun sets
homeowner to street roamer
family man to castaway
as an eye blinked
and winter frosts left their bloom.

We shared our love of Cohen
as the stars forged the sky
you sang a little
with tobacco rough lungs
the sweetest sound
mixed with bitter tears
picking through all that remains
in the ashes of your life.

You thanked me for kindness
grateful for a chance at visibility
your gratitude reciprocated
by the impression left upon my heart
your face forever summoned
by Leonards finest song
I remember you well
at the halfway hotel...

Where do you go? When you're not here? Do you miss me? I do.

I miss the me that was without all that you are.
I miss the me before that moment when the earth stopped spinning at your hello.
I miss the me that believed in love and had not witnessed the irony of your beautiful scars.
I miss the me that didn't hurt, that rode the wave and let things be what they would.
I miss the me that never felt your touch, that never brought his lips to yours.

Now, I am consumed. Swirling within your grief at being taken, drowning within my grief at the sound of our boy's laughter.

Now I am lonely, my thoughts of you driving me further from the light and deeper into a melancholy orbit, where the only existence is within your unbeating heart.

I see you, all the time, a suggestion of the life I could have had, had the reaper played fairly, his attraction to your flame stronger than mine.

There is no regret here, I loved, deeply and without remorse, every inch of your being.

But today, I'll die a little. For you.

You hate my poems
You say they take me from you
that they're pointless
a waste of time
maybe you're right.
You read them,
just the words as they fall,
and say you get nothing
just syllables.
I have lost count
of the sighs and eyerolls,
the you have no talents,
they sit in a memory box
along with the times you've asked me to stop.
Stop.
Just like that.
Stop pouring myself onto paper,
Stop looking for beauty in darkness,
Stop healing.
You prefer me broken, fragile, dependant,
the girl you took from nowhere to god knows where
a once pretty, broken thing
to hang silently from your arm
while you talk proudly of the soul that you saved.
You fear that my writing will end us.
I fear that my stopping will end me.

We are nothing that matters,
created in mystery
while slowly dissolving to dust.
Pretentions and delusions our comfort as reality bites with it's point filed teeth.

We are not made of stars, nor moondust, we are products of all that has gone before and the destruction of all that is yet to be. 

I yearn to see this life through a rearview mirror, it's withered form a speck on the far horizon, for the hurt to stop as this knife in my back plunges further into my sickened depths, severing my spine from all it holds dear. 

I yearn for silence, for these thoughts to stop spewing from my acid tongue, burning my unkissed lips with a million wasted words while attempting to say only one.

Minutes turn into months, decades of meaningless days and miniscule triumphs. 

The stage is set, my role is uncast but the curtain never falls, I stumble wildly through blind utterances, dreaming darkly, while anxiously awaiting the applause that will herald my passing.

This is not living.

Today is repost day
it's official
I'm reading and posting at a furious pace
I will share your words until your name is all I see
the ones I loved, the ones you hate, the ones I missed.
Each one a blessing to my eyes and heart.
I do this, not for you but for me.
Me, your friend
sat in disbelief that your name will be no more
that you will no longer sing the words of your heart into my eager soul.
This campaign of hate that has brought about the end, I will **** it's author to hell.
I hope they read this and smile, it will not linger, trust me.
They may hide behind walls and throw stones at your heart, their yellow bellies jiggling with laughter while your tears stain your skin, your light dimmed by their spite.
There is such cruelty in this place of beauty and love.
So today will be filled with you, in the hope that you see that you are so much better than they say you are, in every way. You are loved. You belong here. They do not.

Lay with me but love me not
do not risk yourself for me,
words of warning grace my arm
my nature true, 
worn banner proud.
I am too many broken pieces to carry,
torn asunder
at the mercy of a cyclone mind.
My heart's key long banished
by one who walks at night
though never returns.
I will never be anything
but destruction.
Lay with me but love me not
Do not risk yourself for me.