Not a single thing is permanent.
Everything in this life is temporary,
whether that means seconds or years,
once you have something, it will at some point be gone.

And I'm still stumbling through whether or not
this makes the darkest nights lighter,
or every single light I've ever lit...
go out.

she cradled the thought of me in the eyes of her heart
and constructed me from fragments
of what she had thought she knew
with deliberate care stitched the pieces
of her self deceptions to the fabric of reality's rags
a wedding cake of circumstance and make believe
that was the union of her fears and madness

she crept up to my window paine
and carved into the stain of frost on winters nights glass
the thought of the face of the bitter dogs
their lonely years hanging loose upon their bones
their fear have all withdrawn to gather in moonlight
the stillness of her own reflection
fails to bear fruits of reason
so she joins them to whisper at the falling sky

she lay in the halflight of evening
fully clothed under the sheets
writing in her mind symphony's of silence
embracing the gloom
while beads of desperation's labors burst upon her brow
her tight lips pressed to retain
but the words cannot help but but be spoken
please love me

in her hearts eye she cradles me in
the embrace of a lover
in her hearts mad mind it was meant to be
she has known it since secret writings came to light
never you mind they bore another woman's name
the just feel like they speak to her alone
in her hearts mad mind
she carves heart shaped love letters
in the stain of frost of winter nights glass