He brought the sun into the sky each day
She brought booming thunder and rain
He shimmered like gold and smelled of wine
She coward in the corner, shrouded in pain
He prayed his light would be enough
to wash her face of the grimace of disdain
Her hero in armor
Upon her, golden wings does he ordain

The clouds fall away
His glow burning like a fire
Her resistance fading, fear dissipating
His voice carries her higher

When the sun and the storm intertwine
it's as if you're seeing the face of the divine

Hallowed bones cracked in the fireplace,
Predicting the sorrow of this hollow home.
The frayed ends of the ancient windchime,
With one bell still glistening on the rotted porch.
The kitchen smells of anger and clove oil;
The cast iron *** has boiled itself dry,
While the kettle screams on the stove.
Hands cracked and bruised,
Pulling back the tattered bed covers,
Dusting off yesterday's woes to make room for today.
Make snow angels out of the drywall from the ceiling.
Pipes rattle in the walls,
Announcing your midnight thirst.
Awake before dawn to get a bath first—
The only surety is the warmth of the water.
Dressed in the clothing of those much older,
Threadbare, feeling the cold before opening the door.
Worn boots crunching in the fresh snow;
Just a glance back,
Looking at home.

The Man's bringing me down, man.
Can't afford to eat,
I got no place to sleep.
The parking lot's noisy
but, I get a few winks.
My phone alarm goes off
for shift number one.
I promise scrubbing toilets
is so much fun.
My appetite's gone.
So, I choke down a meal.
It was under five dollars.
That's the only appeal.
The sun relaxes, fading away.
Shift number two lasts
into the next day.
The factory is hot,
the pay is okay.
Saving and scraping
just to get away.
The countdown began,
so I know the 'when'.
I know the 'where to' and 'why'.
So, I'm suffering in silence
and biding my time.
Dreaming of palm trees,
of sunshine, a better life.
The snow seems more pretty
when you know you're leaving it behind.

She came in the room and gave me food;
And in that moment she was you.
Not sure if it was the liquor or the mood,
but I stepped outside to smoke with you.
As my puffs of breath left me,
I'm sure the whispered prayer carried through.
She's just a girl at a party.
But, **** it all, I wish she was you.

I cried for you today
It was storming and my tomatoes are growing
I talked about you today
Because speaking your name feels like prayer
I made the dinner you like, and used our secret bath herbs
I still have your hair towel
I miss you
So I cried for you today

It's bizarre to be alive and know
that in someone's home, you're a ghost.
The question remains:
How are you remembered?
Does a smile accompany your name?

She’s carried me for far too long. My weight lingers on her shoulders; my barbs leave welts on her back. I lower my head behind hers to give her a moment with her reflection. I keep her awake some nights; her silent tears are a private performance. I’d have moved on long ago, but she can’t let me go. She keeps me close, next to her fear of the unknown. We create shadows on her walls each night when we dance. She’s sewn me into her skin; she can’t wash me away.
But one day, her threads will break.
From her, I’ll separate, and she will be free. And I will move on to the next, hoping I never see her again.