Wounds renewed
knives were sharp,
****** fingertips
play the harp,
for a joyous union
yet again,
could've been
entwined in
strands of her mane,
bathed in requite at last.
Bled in a chalice
not in vain,
to be sipped a little
each passing day,
to ease the pain,
to yearn away,
yet again.

Neither singing nor words,
nor humming with the birds,
neither giggles nor laughs,
nor the breaking of voices,
nor the rapid water quaffs
after heartfelt cries,
none of this is heard now
for we meet behind shut eyes,
I long for it all, but for now,
these mere glimpses suffice.
Hours spent in silences,
now they go in vain,
for even silences
can feel incomplete,
memories of her presence
are all that remain.

Sunlight from
the window pane,
sun rays sift through
strands of her mane,
they stroke my face.
She and
the sun collaborate
to reveal the brown
in my eyes,
little does she know
it's my love,
outed in glimpses
as the sun shines,
it's the dreams
of this autumn,
and how we'll be one
by then,
it's the brown of
the tree's leaves,
greeting us on
our usual strolls,
and when we lay
on each other's laps
on all the autumn eves.

Let's find refuge
on the misty clouds,
above the downpour
away from the crowds,
muffled in the sheet of stars,
I'll ****** your skin
like shrouds of silk,
under the dim light
of the moon lampshade.
I look up at the falling rain
and think of your hair
entwined in my fingers,
gliding leisurely without a care.
Sweet belle I hope to god,
before it all,
each one there is,
or if there even is one,
you find home in me,
in the face of
every storm to come.

A lost confidant
parting after a brief jaunt,
the killing anticipation
of getting down on a knee
in the middle of a restaurant,
waves of the fleeting flowing time
trickling down fingers of mine,
then again,
pleasures of the swim
come from the fear of
being hauled by
this torrent's whim.

I gave her my coat
for more than just a day,
to thieve her scent
and take her all the way
home with me,
now I rue each day,
it shouldn't have been my coat
but my skin instead,
I'd have thieved her blood
complimentary to the scent,
for unlike the scent,
the blood wouldn't have faded,
we'd both pass away in peace,
with our souls jaded.

Unaware sweet nothings,
her last words before
she parted,
perhaps the last whiff
of her mane
before an ordeal started.