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It's that time of year again,

The air is warm,
breathing delicate
wisps of breeze
across my skin

I was cold
inside my heart,
shrank and barely
beating

My head is my own
theatre, frames flashed
and frozen, projecting
every still

I try to put the ghosts
to rest, bury them like
bones in a garden

But they wake up,
like vampires,
when the sun sets

Words catch in
my throat, lungs
take in their fill
of air, but there's
not enough oxygen

To feed my brain.
The moonlight pours down on us
like silver nectar

encasing us in a glowing
white hum of magic and mystery

the stars shine like precious gems
each one worth more
than their Earthly wealth

we are the silent lovers,
the keepers of night

and all its secrets buried
in our lips

shared only between ourselves
in a midnight kiss
I am counting down the days
until I can see you again

each square on the calendar
a gift to open, springing
longing from the present
into the future  

as we draw nearer to a time
where we can hold hands
and gaze out across the river

its shimmering blue surface
as perfect as if it were painted
and us, painted too

lovers entwined
in a sweet embrace
hands and lips
and eyes locking
tight

a blissful reunion
of the heart
If I could reach into your chest
and pull out your heart

twist blue veins around my fingers
and taste red arteries between my lips

If I could caress it gently
and coax out the words you never said

would that be love?

when your blood pours from you
and gradually makes its way
to where I stand

and I still stand, unflinching
in the crimson pool about my feet

would that be love?
Forever

I never said it, but I felt it,
with every fibre of my being,
every hair on my arm
and cell of my skin

I know you didn’t,
and that’s okay, too

we are not equals in love
nor are we meant to be
Cry
I want to make you cry, he said;

not by breaking your heart,

but by showing you the beauty
that you hold behind your eyes,

that I see every time
I look at you,

that I know you cannot see
for yourself
I am not sure who I am anymore,

they say depression
is like being at the bottom
of a black hole, unable to see the sky,

but I see the sky,

the sun burns my skin,
and the stars taunt me
with their promises of sleep
that are never meant for me;

I am sickly sad
and I’m not getting any better,

my heart is full and cracked
from the strain of carrying the scars
of a thousand wounds ,

I cannot stand with a heart
so heavy

and would you really blame me
if I made it stop?
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