By the last vestiges of moonlight I stand peerless in my gaze, stalwart to face into the sun and fiercely brave it’s blinding rays. I seek a blazing heart like mine to match heavens and the devine. I seek matriarch, a sweet patriarch and like Prometheus to steal a spark and harken yet not darken the rest of my days.

Many speak of love in spring of their lives but I felt the winter deep set in my bones when I was young. A stone cold dessert of bone and ash the pieces of my life irrevocably torn from me before you had found me in my hollowed out hell. You were the first light I could see through the fog.  Behind the curtain of our ***** faith we hid our bodies in each other. And all that was ash was suddenly silk and satin.
It was a a failed baptism to be born into this world stuck beneath the surface drowning in a guilt not my own and a shame in my heart. Never before had I felt air like you breathed into me in that book store corner our faces flushed and barley touched.
I am sure I was to be pulled into the drink if not for your love. Your kindness and rawness shown back at me in that fire you carried in your hair and your eyes. At just 16 and now at 28 you have been gone longer then I ever knew you and yet the memories feel longer still. I still see movement behind that veil but you are not behind it and I am haunted by that shadow. I still feel the heat of your fire, but it is the shadow of a forever fading warmth to never truly leave and let me chill and  yet to never find the breadth to allow me true comfort. I fear I am to become a wraith in your absence although I walk forever in the sun you showed. Over the hunch of the earth I have traveled now, seeking my comfort. Seeking your fire again and if I am to become a wraith, of ash with only the memory of fire to torment me until my end I will be grateful it was your fire. And when I fade even as a wraith into the cusp of the world and the void takes my memory of you I will find you again in that place. Never have I been so sure that I lost the love of my life. I have returned to winter knowing warmth and am more and less for it.
And I wouldn’t trade it for gold.
I love you. And I always will.

The streets have begun to settle, the lights are getting dim. The clouds roll in like shadows, the songs have turned to sin.
Where were the heroes on high? Where were the stories they told? The sun has sank into the graves with the heroes of old.

Bloated solar systems draw sharp ships aloft its great celestial sea. I am battered and broken by the shift the storm sends my body adrift. But I seek to float and be rebuilt by constellations consolidating soulful songs so sight full that a bright star might sink into my orbit and maybe I could catch some light and absorb it.

Everyone I ever loved never loved me back or loved me too late. Everyone I ever loved only loved to wait.
Fate.
Fire.
Faith, I’m lost and found. Waiting to be claimed from beneath the ground. I want a love that you can’t satiate.
I want a soulmate.

The winter worn man
And the Star kissed girl
She rained her crystalline pearls, like feathered petals from another world, and the winter worn man felt cold in his hand, and warm in his heart as she danced the heavens under clouded dark.


From above on angel slides, lights of heavens cutting wide, he would rather stay in the shadow today. Watch her dance and sway and play, And pray to god for light on another day. When stars don’t descend on weightless air, and get trapped in her Star kissed hair.

“Errant knight, and samurai, man of god left to die, by sword and sorcery we fix his body to this crucifix. By storm of blade and blade of bone. He will stand a man regrow. When the hour draws late, he will shatter swords of fate and bring dark heavens crashing down. In his wake I pray the lord your souls he takes. To burn your evil with the might of excalibur so bright. The crucifix will rise again and usher in evils end.”