I have found things to be true: weakness is the monster in the dark.
The fact that it breeds strength is pure farce. However, it does breed doubt and fear and sadness all beyond recount.
Weakness has been known to be the adulterer of love, of beauty, and of bravery.
It is true that perhaps to some it is a muse—a slowly burning  fuse to something brighter, bolder, better.
To others, it is the bearer of perpetual gloom—their fuse gone cold too soon.

I watched my love die on the sand
As blood mingled with the earth
I watched the light fade from his eyes
Sweet breath abandon his lungs
I saw him suffer to say some word
A sad way to waste the last of breath

In my hand a desperate grasp
Pale against skin, gasp against sob
A cry from lips of pain and loss
In this short eternity I was so lost

And as the staining darkness reached his eyes
The moon did break
Propelling shattering crystal across my sky

No more night would fill my life
With no more moon to light the way
Only sun filled days
No more reprieve from scorching rays
Spiteful as they burn my eyes
Already sore from things too bright

~
Even as life relinquished its hold
And the fingers of mortality would press no more upon him
I held on still
I held, I clung as if to root him
To where he should belong
I dared the earth to split beneath
Even then it would not be enough
To give up night
And surrender to sun

What should I say
Farewell
Goodbye
Soon the sun will come
And you will leave me
And you will fade

~
The dawn that broke
Brought a mournful shade
The warmth that seeped through clouds of dew
Seemed to mock me in its wake

Sounds of morning
Whispering false peace into my ear
Egged on a pain that seemed to sear
Within my chest, my bones
Every inch beneath my skin

~
I huddled beside it
The empty thing I had loved
And that had once loved me

My head lay upon his chest
Otiose against my being
I clutched closer
As if my beating heart could call him back...

I am your pendulum

Swaying from the gallows
The world tips beneath me

I am your  keeper
What I am
You are destined to become

Momentum and
Gravity
Carry you
To your fate

Every step a gilded weight

I am your redemption
I am your reformation

Your final exclamation
To fair weathered life

...For I love the sunny days
The gray ones too...
Those that are windy
And those that are calm
I love them all

Oh
And the quiet nights
in the waking of spring
Because they all hold a piece of you

I wake up alone.
Conversation over air, breaching two thousand and some miles—
so much of the time, it is too much to bear.
I miss you. I am afraid that words have become tiresome.
And  I live for midnight.
Love is never wrong, even if one starves for the sake of it—
even if I am waking alone.

Come
The one I adore

In the ways of love and charm
I am a simpleton
But with you
I am master, savant

Of grace I have none
And as a soul
I am fragmented
Partial
Dismally incomplete

Though
In your eyes I shine
In your smile
I bask

I feel my heart would welcome you
But you do not feel the tremble
The gentle rent as it breaks
So unknown to you
Each time you turn away



Your shining eyes are not of me
And the warmth of your smile upon me
Runs not so deep as I had dreamed

It went away
in the way that some things do.
The sun cannot always shine where you can see.
The rain does not always fall where you can feel.
But these things,
like it
are always bound to return.
This is the promise that every new day brings.

Beautiful Lonesome--
Beneath the weight of the day,
Lonesome can bite like ice
Lonesome can burn like fire.  
Who is she
If not a heart tainted and touched--
Something of a beautiful misfortune.

And into the black
The wanderer goes
Farther
Farther still

Back to the lonesome dreams
To the memories of low esteem

For the wanderer
Returning home
Is never easy

Dust covered boots
And worn ragged cape
Contain him

His life

Who he is
Amounts not to where he has been
Or what he has seen
But to the redemption
Of all that has come before
To
Every desperate step
Every windswept
Weather worn scar



Footfall
By footfall
Straining muscle
And disenchanted breath
The wanderer comes upon
Ever so slowly
The cancer of his heart
The rot of his bones
The disease of his skin





Despite the distance  
The salvation of time
As if like a mountain side
Or deep jagged canyon bluffs
Shaped by ceaseless wind
And pounding rain

The wanderer
Wears away

When the cold is here
Will I crumble with the freeze?

Who am I asking
When I speak to empty air
For things to change?

Here I sit
So near to tears
Upset from nothing
But still
Wanting to wilt

Can I not drift away
with the summer leaves,
we being so alike?

High winds
Always bring us down
Being so loosely tethered
To our own hearts

It would be so easy to follow
Those hollowed remains
Of this worn and weathered life

Now battered and dejected
Fallen and forgotten
Ready to ride the wind

Is it not funny
How I wish to be with the leaves?