Just as birds will sing.
Just as church bells ring.
Just as sad men say sad things.
We will dance alone
in this room engulfed in flames.

Watch as the woodwork falls.
As hellfire smothers the walls.
As our survival begs and crawls.
We’ll stay arms locked and eyes straight
as our duty has called.

We waltzed as the flames grew
heat surged against you
oh what danger we got into.
But love,
love always pulls through.

I’ve been watching the seasons change
from this lonely little bus stop shelter.
Waiting in limbo,
as the leaves turn from an animated green,
to the frost bitten crunch
of once was.
The landscapes danced dynamically before.
Trees swayed blissfully
over the vibrantly brushstroked canvas;
yet now they stand still.
Motionless.
Paralysed, like a Polaroid picture.
But in this time of waiting;
my momentary detention of movement;
a suspension of my heart’s desires.
I’ve observed as the scenery
turns to the deceased.
The dead.
The diminished.
And returns back
to the living
as it always does
and always will
eventually.

You arrived as the key that freed me
you left as the cage that kept me.