Inside my polished surface,
my seas are in constant disarray,
the soul, its sweet nectar that fills every crevice.
violent; angry; bitter soul.

Inside my mental shell of self protection,
and the "person" it protects
from the poison that spews from my heart
my soul speaks to me; it reminds me I am weak
violent; angry; bitter soul.

I know well that there is no escape,
no sculptor can prefect; the stone that is broken
no painter can fix; the lines that have bled
no poet can create; emotions which no longer exist
I drag the stones of my own damnation
eternal ; violent; angry; bitter soul.

As time passes, my exterior becomes unpolished
manicured hands become wrinkled and weak,
legs of harden meat, become toothpicks
time is constant,
there is no escape,
but one thing remains
my eternal, violent, angry bitter soul. . .
    that weeps for you. . .

I am here in your eyes,
look at me, hear me, feel me,
better yet forget me
I am like you. . .
we are one in the same; one of many
we are nameless, due to our sameness
sparks, comets, eruptions, cosmic clouds fill the iris.
and yet we are all the same,
filled with darkness, filled with death,
filled with sadness
lost lovers, lost in the cosmic sea unaware,
of our loss of joy, loss of love , loss of fire
ardent passion filled flame lost to ashes,
we are dreamers, dreaming of the beyond,
dreaming of the cosmos, dreaming of love lost
dreaming. . . dreaming . . . dreaming. .
until the day finds us,
   time does not stop, nor is it forgiving.
       yet we cling to night, to our cosmic dreams,
as well fall into walls of depravity,
   on the foggy shores of life,
        on the train that never reaches the station,
we become fixtures, tied to our dreams,
   tied to the past we are s̶h̶a̶d̶o̶w̶s̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶l̶i̶v̶i̶n̶g̶
.

They tell me to find someone less broken,
     For I knew you were broken,
            when you tried to break me,
                  but I stayed - 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝑜𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓈𝓉.

To you, gardener,
of flowers under oozing rays of honey.
Who in your memory helped bloom,
vibrant beauty, so absent from this summer.

To you, gardener,
who gives colors from yellow, blue, green and red Hughes.
which explode like a choir amongst the rocks and air.
in your explosive tune, that your dove,
vessel of posthumous beauty, takes flight.

For you, who helped him bloom!
That took him out of the dark,
as you turned a bud into a flower,
coal into a diamond,
a babe into an eagle.

For you, after that one night.
Left him in solitude, as you dreamed amongst the stars.
For you, sweet gardener, unleashed his celestial voice,
as he searched amongst the thorns of time and space.
crying, begging, pleading for reunification.

He forgot the stars,
  he lost his spark,
      he danced for the night,
          as he begged, pleaded, lost in flight
                   praised and saddened by your glory,
like you sweet gardener, I want to raise a flower,
  watch it bloom, watch it sing, watch it soar,
          but never leave it alone. . .

I wake to your words,
   I dream of your thoughts,
       I cry for your struggles from afar,
You are everything and in between.
   Until we meet again,
             my dear old friend.

When you lost your hair; you got angry.
   When you lost time; you rushed.
       When your strength left; you shut down.
           When I pushed; you pulled.
              When I talked; you yelled.
                 When I asked; you said " you don't understand"
I was a child,
       young, dumb, but honest.
           I loved you,
                I love you,
                   even if it breaks me.
                       I will love you.