I'm made of cobwebs, shaded grays,
echos faded by the murky streetlight;
Festive blobs signal the holidays -
and ricochet off me into the night.
.
A thick, dull fog 'tween me and them,
a brick wall no one can see;
seamless weights in my hem,
and dust inside what used to be me.
.
And then there's you, a year away,
waisted tears, and prayers null;
an end thought for each void day,
a whisper-scratch in my old hull.
.
The words avoid me, skittish things,
like birds that flutter fragile wings;
the right ones are only fledglings,
too young for new beginnings.
.
And I wish that I could care for cold,
worn out flat 'tween mortar and pestle,
a forlorn growth ring in a tree of old,
trapped inside a rotting vessel.
.
.

Let me make my own mistakes,
and let me learn from them.
As ice freezes over lakes,
I will harden like a gem.
.
I don't regret leaving my heart out
to get scorched, crack in the cold;
a lesson needed to sow doubt,
to make caution take a hold.
.
I've learned, I've grown
through the pains;
I am now more my own,
experience in my veins.
.
And now I don't even feel the break:
like a computer gone offline;
a reboot needed just to make
this new update truly mine.
.
I will survive, I always do -
my shipwrecks an eternal theme -
and I'll re-surface, start anew,
with new stitching along the seam.
.

Home, for me, was never a place;
That comfort and safety aren't tied to a space -
for me it's the people, and emotions they bring:
a hallowed steeple, a hymn to sing.
.
Since you left I've been homeless,
- a wandering wreck -
no refuge nor address,
a stone 'round my neck.
.
My friends have homes,
and I'm a welcome guest,
yet my soul still roams:
a traveler with no quest.
.
And my friends are springs,
fresh, clear, and pure,
but for one who is starving,
water's no cure.
.
I hunger, my love, for your lips on mine,
Heavens above, grant me a sign.
This beaten-down husk, this wretched shell,
A shadow in dusk, for you unwell.
.

Against all common sense,
you still give me butterflies;
I want to tell you without pretense
how my heart for you sighs.
.
My fingers hover over the phone,
indecisive, nervous, cringing;
Since you left I'm so alone,
a kingdom without a king.
.
Words, my usual weapons of choice,
fail me when it comes to you.
I fear you'll forget my voice,
our nights; move on to someone new.
.
It's hard. It's frustrating,
this near-constant low;
Missing you, contemplating,
screaming into a pillow.
.
And memories, little ones,
just flashes of that high,
Bittersweet firefly-suns
of the days you were nigh.
.
These crumbs of text,
an occasional voice note,
Starving till the next,
Hungering for what you wrote.
.
I need you, I love you so
embarrassingly much,
Your smile, your eyes of doe,
the fire of your touch.
.
And yet it gets caught in my throat,
the selfish begging for your return;
so I just pray, in silence,
as I continue to burn.
.

You find me.
In the church bells of a Hozier song,
the sheets that without you feel wrong,
you bind me.
.
You remind me,
of our sunny morning walks,
of our silly grinning talks,
when you find me.
.
You touch every thought,
my eternal leitmotif;
no such battle fought
as with you, my heart-thief.
.
And I want to write words,
tell you how strongly I yearn,
but my mind sees absurds:
so each letter I burn.
.
And I'm terrified, paralyzed with fear;
I dread your heart will cool,
that you won't love me, my dear -
that I've been but a fool.
.
Chasing dreams, all in vain,
as I wonder who warms your bed;
So far away, across the pain,
racing terrors in my head.
.
An ocean between us, worlds apart,
I crave desperately for your embrace.
Yet still I'm silent, intrepid heart -
a grave of sorrow, sans your grace.
.

I miss you more than words can express,
but I must try anyway.
The issue, the core of this whole mess:
I'm dust since you went away.
.
I think of you ten times a day,
tormented by memories:
a wink, a joke you would say -
lost in my reveries.
.
And I only really smile
when I replay our greatest hits;
It's been lonely for a while,
Gone astray, falling to bits.
.
I pray, I do, though I'm not sure
if I deserve to have you back,
or if oblivion could even cure
this tattered soul, this crystal crack.
.
Fare thee well, my shooting star,
wherever you might land;
For I have fell from you too far,
forever changed by your hand.
.

Here it is once more
- a dark form looming -
A shadow from Before,
A storm's mark, dooming.
.
Invisible vise grip,
the weight on my chest;
Marble-heavy crypt,
A thornbird's nest.
.
This hunter is slow,
patient, though relentless;
with no arrow, or bow,
or trigger to press.
.
His footsteps fall monotone
- finality's beat -
Like soot on a wall of bone,
the last defeat.
.
Although he'll stay
out of sight, a dark drape,
Know that his prey
might never escape.
.
When no one's around,
When comforts are few,
In the scent of moist ground,
He could find you too.
.