I left you behind.
I had too,
the pain was crushing me.
I couldn't breath anymore.

I could see naught
but the spectrum of iron and ash.

It struck me so profoundly,
As if I had seen the impossible lines
In gods ancient hands.
A resonating slap across the soul.

I could not be you anymore.
But I left you her picture,
a beautiful, broken path
and I crawled away.

I cried everyday.
At first in every regard,
and then mostly inward.
I became as a black veil
as the cathedral I build to her
slowly melted away
in the acids of anger and pain.

Around the ruin
I dug a mote
and I filled it with sarcastic regret
and I set it ablaze with volcanic irony
the hate of how I was.

I built a Castle from my own remains,
a dread and lifeless thing.
Stone by stone,
Quarried from the shell
of what I thought love would be
Each splashed with a crimson
"never again" and set soundly
against all who would come calling.

I have lived here ever since.
Walls lined with exquisite paintings.
Markers of siege I withstood
each a beautiful face, lost but never forgotten.

Everyday I sit at a simple table
covered in the jigsaw mess of it,
a broken song I wish to sing
but I am missing so many pieces
and I left the box with you.

Every ****** night
before I go to bed
I look in the silver reflection
beset by patina and time
and I peer back at the familiar
seventeen year old boy there
who has yet to fall in love with her,
to be wrapped in the glory
of her soul
and I tell the dreams in his eyes
the very essence of him
the wayward pieces of me
I am sorry, I am so very sorry,

But I had to leave you behind.

Seeking the humblest
of answers
To the grandest of inquiries
on the outside

by looking
in the deepest reflections
of what makes us worthy
to be called human

on the inside

when the time comes for me to pass
they shall lay me neath the shadow cast
by the great oak standing silent, true
watching over me
and you
when light wind blows
in sunlight's trance
I hear your whispers
through leaves they dance
I take your hand
o'er the fields we stroll
your head on my shoulder
as the church bell toll

I see this space, unraveled eyes.  
The tight ropes that sing when plucked.
The wisdom embedded in the halls of failed yesterdays.
The smiles that preach endless laughter
to the unsuspecting mourning soul.
Falling sparks of ever winter moonlight
beckoning all who see

not for greater glory, ambition, or power. 
 Just the wisdom in old tears, the wealth of blood, the anchor of friendship, and the honor of holding the future accountable.

She was a bit like the moon

Shining with borrowed happiness
and glowing with light that wasn't her own

But

the moment she felt unloved
she sank beneath the horizen
dark once more

Where may I roam,
that the bullet graze
across my hunched over heart
will cease to glow hot
fanned
By the lonely headwinds
of what new lovers
used to say.

Little boy, go tell your mother
That the rains are coming,
And the horrible winds.
But don't scare her.