Every wail of wind
Is a mournful dirge
Carrying off through the distance
Where tenebrous finger like branches sway,
And the moist air feels like a tearful eye.

The pale light won’t shine,
She hides her face in a cacophony of smoke and mirrors,
A majesty so shy she turns her back
As the wolves cry for her in loving sonnets.

Deeper is the black that darks the skies,
As veins of electric light quickly strobe the clouds,
There’s a crack of a cackling giant,
And the tears fall from angels,
As a strident breeze breathes across the landscape
As the trees mosh in syncopated patterns—
I calmly wait in the midst of storms.

You ache to speak, to set things right,
To call out wrongs done in plain sight.
But silence, heavy as it seems,
Can guard your soul and guard your dreams.

He saw the lies, the twisted truth,
The wounds they hid, the stolen youth.
So hold your peace, let vengeance wait—
God writes the end, not fear or hate.

letters that blur in my mind
syllables I can't seem to find
three words I once held on my tongue
so often, from when we were young

and it was like a stranger I once knew
so different, another version of you
or what is it just the same?
I just can't remember your name

A touch of warmth lingering on my hand
a missing footprint on the sand
was it or was it not,
a name that I forgot

and time is a cruel mastermind
leaving fragments of a memory behind
of a love I cannot bear
of something—someone—who was once there