I could bleed all the ink from my pen,
As a fountain of my sorrows,  
Streaming endlessly from a shattered heart
Masked behind these dry, but weary tears

But, the length of my scroll,
Short of a new page,
Appeals for a new chapter,
That I return to its headers,
To write within my past,
The story of a new self

She hates the blankets of the night,
Hovering over the yellow of the sun
Into a boiling skin, sweating,
Soaking in a night gown,
Drowning in a pool of flooding terrors,
Flashing slates of memories

A dark alley, a subway,
Trailed by a hooded phantom
laying on her back, flimsy,
Chocking on her fading screams
In fright of the red mask,
The weight of his seed

I didn't not see the shadow,
Nor the silhouette of your soul,
But a wavy shade,
Of your heart,
Smiling and tearing
Strings of my own,
That strummed for you,
Toying with their elasticity,
The acoustics of divorce,
Casting a dying passion,
When we played boy and girl
Into a happy never after

So I prayed today
At the altar under a roof,
Standing, a rusty but rugged cross,
On a peak, towards the sky

The candles fared,
Wavy flames danced with my own shadow
On dusty stone walls and aged furniture,
As silence masked the night

The midnight hour,
Transitioning into a future,
A present,
Dragging in a past,

These dreams of rue
Incorporated in a self,
To be buried in tears,
And left longing, for an escapade

The falling threads of her hair
Dark and satin,
In the yellow light of a dying candle,
Brushing lightly the wrinkles of my face,
At the temples, before the moon,
When she hung peaceful in my feeble arms,
Sharing a fatherly embrace

I slide my legs between the sheets,
feel the tender touch of warm cotton,
on my cold skin,  that my eyes close,
into a darkness, into a wonderland,
to catch the morrow
a Breaking Dawn,  dancing,
within the swords of the arena

“No,” he said,
“I want to see how you roll yours eyes when turned on,”
“Biting your lips and your voice smoother than the dust of falling snow,
Screaming within a peaking ecstasy.”
“To see your soul in the white of your eyes,
And your heart in the brown lenses within.”
“Pounding to the thrusting movement between your thighs,
But gentle, to raise your spirit,
Into the sky of dreamers…”