Two people could never have been more in love than the two of us. A spark at first glance, suddenly roaring as a huge fire. At every moment we'd tell the other how much we loved them and how we wish they'd never leave. Two hearts and two minds, completely intertwined. But now it feels different. The light in your eyes has gone. My smile wiped from your mind. Is this what love is? A flurry of passion then nothing? I thought love was to be shared, nurtured over time, a never ending passion. As I lay here seemingly forgotten, in endless confusion, It seems "love" is just a syllable, it's meaning lost to history and its intent ignored in the doldrum of life. It is why I now ask: Do you even remember my name?

I dreamt an Angel came to me
With a grin and blood on his face.
Still, a tear was in his eye.
His head hung in disgrace.

He did not speak a word to me
Yet, I knew his mind.
I felt he was a part of me,
As I am, cruel; but kind.

He took me to a stair well
Leading up and down,
Splayed in e'er' direction,
As I gazed around.

Then, were lambs and goats
Battling in a field of fire,
And swine possessed of a madness;
To which I could not aspire.

The Angel pointed, with boney claw,
At the desert and the sea.
I could not choose between the two
Which one should I be.

His wisper was a fount
Of living, crystal clear
Water moving over me,
Flowing in my ear.

His fiery cloak embraced me.
It burned upon my skin.
He brought me to ground, turned me around.
The Mystery has no end.

Laying out in the sun.
Getting sunburns that lead to tans.
Spending hours in the ocean.
Waves crashing against my skin.
Lots of smiles.
Lots of laughter.
Yet something's missing.
Something's not right.
This great day feels wrong.
And I can't quite place why.
Though I think I'm starting to figure it out.
I think it's because of you.
Because you're not here experiencing this with me.
And you were suppose to always be here.
Experiencing the rest of life and its beauty at my side.

He told her she was pottery; a vase with grooves and cracks.
The patterns of the history she hid behind her back.

Within his words he layered in- like thread upon a loom-
The sweetest undercurrent to illuminate that gloom.

In certain cultures, he decreed, when pottery is cracked
They aggrandize them with gleaming gold to bring their splendor back

For they believe, with certainty, once damage has been wrought
Those tiny cracks, now filled with light, hold truths that can't be taught.

We danced away
under the misty starlight.
I was lost in your eyes.
Oh,
what a night.

We woke up
under sheets of rich
red rose-coloured garments
of silk and lavender.

We kissed,
touched,
and cuddled
through the sound of rain
hitting the roof
and through the roars
of lightning
and thunder.

We strolled
through an enchanted,
rich meadow,
and trekked
through the mountains
all covered with  snow.

You looked at me
and told me,
that I should know:
that you love me.
That you wouldn't let me go.

And in that moment,
I said it didn't matter.
That the words weren't necessary.
That they would only get lost,
fragile sound waves obscured
in the chaos of the ether.
Like tears frozen in frost.
I said I could feel it anyway.
I knew it.
That you didn't have to say.
And in that moment,
we were perfect.
Everything was beautiful.
No pain;
except
when *I woke up.