Standing alone. Spiralling tentacles
reaching out into the ether.
Searching, waiting, wishing, trying to
fall into the  void.
Thought vibrations soaring high
beyond the throes of calm.
Being alone, engulfing blankets of
doubt and shame......suffocate.
Days alone feeling, touching, blindly
stumbling towards the light.
Praying alone that darkness and infinate
endless space will become my salvation.
Take me to the soil in the grand masters crypt
to judge and give the day a rose.
A rose of goodbye petals.

I haven't seen the sun
since the summer you left me.

I've been sliding
through this cave for months.

August left--
cold scold, quick breath.

In September
the trees lost their pages.

November blew
and dumped buckets of tears

on a doorstep that I built
in a dream.

December knew
and darkened her sun

froze,

Waited for snow.

Waking up,
to the clearest head.

Morning thought:
At least, I'm not dead.

Sitting up,
on the edge of the bed.

I think of you,
things that we've said.

Waking up,
from the clearest head.

I walk to the couch.
I go back to bed.

It's a melancholy kind of midnight as I sit here chasing dreams,
Whiling away the hours with my well-worn reveries.
Cocooning myself in a blanket of whimsy as the moonlight gleams,
I melt into a world where I am welcomed heartily.