I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

A soul shattered,
a heart left in pain,
a mind gone insane.

A sort of suffering,
feelings no one can explain.

Once having so much to gain,
the weight of our  physical
distance apart only remains.

Even in the darkest moments
when I feel I cannot see,
I know deep down
you still reside in me.

Like when the first ray of sun
hits the morning dew,
I drew breath the moment
I met you.

                                                                                           Jon York   2021

I live under the threat
of each thread
of my being untethering itself
from my flesh as my essence
is disincorporated,
and my memories are evaporated.
Until, this dilapidated
leathered skin caves in
succumbing to the bitter ending
of my futile existence.

Sometimes...
I talk to the moon
And tell it all the things that I can't say to him...