Love in whispers,
silent to me,
though she is there
on the other side of this wall.

Longing's lament takes shape
and leaves, no longer welcome.

The 8th Deadly Sin of Backsliding

The fractured wellspring of my soul
adds fuel to the fire,
threatening to consume my refuge.
In a moment of pride
I showed You the door,
so I could keep the fire at bay on my own.
But the smoldering inferno grows,
slowly engulfing all I hold dear.
And You whom I sent away,
still stand outside my door,
with words of admonition,
to let Him back in to fight the fire.

James E. Roethlein ©2018

A Familiar Exposition of Dorian Grey

The shadow of a diseased reflection,
rests, upon his evening eyes,
the venom he desires to spew
at his mirror-self, refusing to be
constrained behind clenched teeth, breaks loose;
vomiting itself off of his tongue.