Verses find me in my sleep,

memories that go too deep.

Running from thoughts, I keep busy,

running from myself, until I feel dizzy;

Workaholic - almost free,

avoiding places where you'll be.

Because you've made it pretty clear,

kind and polite, but not always here.

Sooner or later, I'll move on,

I'll live, this pain will be gone.

Clovers in the cold autumn air -
Alive for now and unaware
Of winter on its way.
No four-leaved luck
Can keep the muck
Of rainy days at bay.
.
I envy them, their mindless bloom,
The way they know not of their doom,
Of snow beneath which they'll rest.
For I know my approaching frost,
The summer bliss came with a cost,
And soon the crows will lose their nest.
.
It smothers me - the thought
That all efforts were for naught,
And I remain in this alone.
This cursed knowledge in my chest,
Claws at my soul without rest;
Poisoned veins, flesh, and bone.
.
The evening wind gives me chills,
Yet I'm impassive as these hills -
The physical can't hurt me now.
For my heartache is much stronger,
Its freezing cold lasts far longer
Than any weather knows how.
.
I care to deeply - that's my cross -
Then pay dearly for each loss;
My foolish heart cannot quit.
I can only hope to leave a mark
In your memory a tiny spark
Of the fire we once lit.
.

You can hear the alarm bells,
See the red flags.
You know this will ruin you,
And you walk in with eyes wide open
Nonetheless.

You try to justify it to the world,
To yourself.
It's the end of the road;
a sense of belonging, finally,
of having a purpose,
and you're tired.
So tired of wandering, searching,
Hoping.
Choking on the salt in the air, the sea an endless barren desert with no land in sight.
So when you hear the siren's call,
And you know it spells doom,
You answer it anyway.
At least it will be over.

Except it's not death you're heading towards, but not a life either,
You'd be called crazy
If there were anyone around.

You're tired, and this feels safe,
To fall sleep in a dungeon,
To drop your heavy defenses.
It's hard work keeping them up,
And you're tired.

There's no room for mistakes in chains.
Your hands can't move to sin.
You're clean, and good;
Your mind is light, free from worry
And planning.

Your eyes fall shut.
You don't dream.

You're just a symptom of my mental state,

that I've romanticized into love and fate.

Escapism has always been my trait,

avoiding reality until it's too late.


Forgive me, darling, I used you as a distraction,

built glass castles off of mere attraction.

I got attached, written you poems,

to avoid facing my own problems.

But obsessions are dangerous, and I wish you well,

I won't drag you with me into this hell.


So goodbye, dear - a farewell to pining;

in this last poem, there's one silver lining:

I'm just glad I never did tell;

and now I'll rise up from where I fell.

Love, oh my love,
you left me defenseless;
no gods above,
no miracle on Christmas.
.
Memories of you
slip through my fingers:
they leave me too;
melancholy lingers.
The protective veil
I weaved from our past
threatens to fail,
flags at half-mast.
Transparent and frail
like a plastic bag;
a soundless wail,
a threadbare rag.
.
My anemic hope,
my castle of denial -
a thinning rope,
dusk to a sundial.
.
And there are days when I surface
- gasp for air and scour for land -
till the waves pull me in the blackness,
back to the despair I understand.
.
And you won't read this one,
this one will stay
at the bottom of an ocean,
out of your way.
.

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.
.

It's these days that **** me - the good ones:

when we get along and you laugh at my puns.

When it seems like we could work, and our interests align,

am I projecting or did you just give me a sign?

When you lean in to whisper an inside joke,

do you know how many feelings you just awoke?

I had them sedated by distance and time,

now once again I need you to be mine.

.

I tease you lightly and you crack a smile,

and my gaze lingers on yours for a while.

Whenever we talk, I tend to find

little similarities that seem bind us

- has it ever crossed your mind? -

the tiny barriers we leave behind.

I want to know even more,

to open every closed door.

The mysteries in your core,

all the details that I adore.

I want your secrets, whatever they are,

every dream, hope, and every scar.

Trust me, let me be who you need,

I'll be there even when you hurt and bleed.

Let flowers blossom from the seeds

of trust and care, above the weeds.

.

What's the matter, love? (The last word I don't speak)

You say it's just life, and no further I seek;

I won't ask more, lest I push you away,

when you're ready, I know you'll say.

I'll wait however long it takes,

I'll stop when you want to push the brakes.

For time is truly all I've got,

time, and this Fire, burning hot.

Fire, that could melt the ***,

all that is, and all that's not.

One day you'll see that that's a lot,

this red string in an eternal knot.

.

These silver cobwebs cannot rust,

the dewdrops on them sparkle just

in spite of all the charcoal dust,

and one day, I will earn your trust.

As the snowy days grow colder,
I'm in the trenches, like a soldier:
a war against my own heart.
.
Shrapnel, bullets, drying blood
surround me in the mud
since we've been apart.
.
My enemy knows no reason,
cares not for negotiation;
moving on for it is treason;
accepts no explanation.
.
And I keep fighting through the pain,
survival instincts wax and wane,
But in my chest I keep a hope.
.
Weak and battered, yet alight,
a single candle in the night -
the only thing that helps me cope.
.
I let the embers of it seethe,
grip it tight and grit my teeth,
like a drowning man to a rope.
.
It whispers softly: "he'll return",
that flame doesn't cease to burn,
its heat is my heliotrope.
.

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.
.