this memory
this ghost for hire
for which i pay dearly
is worth as much, or more

these blue night skies
and black sky days
deserve as much, or more

rainy eyes my mind clouds make
sunny eyes my mind clouds fake

take, take, take
that is all she does
it is all she knows

this ghost
this memory
this love

©Jason Cole

your arms feel like home
and i've been homesick
for quite some time

I flicked the ash from my cigarette.
Watched the smoke rise
in silence.
This lone bench I had found was wet,
but it was mine,
in silence.
My class wasn't close to starting yet,
but it was fine,
in silence.

But this silence is violent.
And my pen is compliant.
And there is nothing wrong with
this bench or this harsh quiet.

Like a sunset, except personal,
this is all mine.
My bench, my cigarette, my moment,
and it's all fine.

For now at least...
It'll do for now...
For in this silence I was endowed
a simple pleasure I heard aloud.

This violent silence,
and this harsh quiet...
It made me smile  for awhile.

How do you breathe so silent?
I grow more and more
labored in each breath.
I remember the days
you told me to never be like you.
Well I’m not. I’m certainly different,

possibly worse.

Exhausted yet I carry on, boots grind with each heavy step I take. I trudge through bones of fallen men, whose hearts I had to break.

Wings that used to carry me, now lay as a reminder on my back. Haunted by the ghosts of lovers, who once counted all I lack.

The wind whispers names of honorable men, who survived yet I left broken. Names not worthy of my poisoned lips, that have parted but not since spoken.

Beautiful in reflection, but color fails to hide. This heart of frost that beats within, that so long ago shattered inside.

They stand in line and follow me, yet I tell them with regret from the start. If this was a fairytale, I'd be that twisted witch without a heart.