The last one
keeps being the hardest,
like if somehow this night
were the darkest

but I'm smiling,
I'm singing,
aren't we happy

I guess, it's just a mess,
and I must be wrong,
could you really let go

because I really couldn't
not for a lifetime and the next
and now
when I think, I dream

it's all just you and me.

It's a feeling,
that ends underneath the eyes,
and I couldn't tell you its beginning,
but ultimately it's called crying

kind of like skin that's torn,
maybe what you imagine,
if you picture a wooden shack,
pillaged, strewn about,
now make it beloved,
it's grandma's, or love
however you shape it

the teardrops seem to have only one way,
but don't dismiss them
they are varied

some come buried,
others help you drown,
some accompanied by a sound,
some fill the town, and others follow
only a silent frown

but you can smile too, when those dastardly things
are coming down.

Blessings to this shovel,
all praises to the sheen of a stolen thing,
having no place but the soul's face,
seated in my one seat,
minuscule in comparison,
to the finality of this grand thing,
the dirt and me,
begging for the killing,
a sunlight that's finally singin
a target worth stingin
how can the hum and buzz ultimately be
a hymn to a thing that couldn't be,
what tears are you talking about,
they are what make me,
and so I call out, and you shout back,
a dearest is what this must be.

You're twisted
again
Likeminded to the she devil
you promised you'd never be

Said we'd sit in the sun and swing,
but you talk me into it alone,
with no around

you command,
you magnify, everything till it's blue,

my angel, angling to have me dangle,
Like a fish

When the skin is pierced,
at that point,
your finger,
breaking past the ring,
like a midnight petal of drear,
to be called my dear.

To be called,
be near,
when everywhere you steer,
my dearest like a demon at my behest,
what about all the flowers,
are they not all a sum of hours.

Characters at loves command,
answering the sweetest beckoning,
now sullen and deafening,
at the rate of this infernal pounding,
a resounding no,
for the sake of your own rejection.

A mental machination,
the result of a twisted imagination,
is my last hope,
to deny that you are the bold face of fear,
the candle is the only thing alive here.

Smell the daisies,
walk down that little path,
where a smile flashed whenever i passed,

sun shining in a way,
where words can only say,
how dare you take it all away,

I knew it was the last,
smile of our dog,
running so playfully,

even though you called, and said the bed had room for me,
and he seemed sick, but my optimism didn't let me believe,
and so i didn't leave, and asked he live another week,

alone, at night, you heard the fight,
I should have been near to smite their light,
but our kitten was lost, to whom we were a light,
wandering and lost, on a random night,

Astray because of me, and he,
fading and trembling, searching for you and me,
and lost his fight, and it was the day,
but it felt like night,

I'm sorry is all I can say,
and my optimism keeps me in this way,
a shell of hope fighting against dismay.

Got nothing left,
telling me what to be and do,
and you've left a mess,
and the shattered me is true

a mirror with burns,
a knife next to an urn,
pictures folded up neatly,
a frown too buried to come out

my eyes are closed now,
I'm listening,
I'm tired,
I'm missing.