Fervour tapered lingering
On that ******* precipice
Of alleged possibility

Devoured by the jaws of silence
The soul no longer raged
A nothingness that knew no words
Agony’s cold grip
Winter in December

I knew not what to with these hands
Their weightlessness
Weeping willows drowned out sound
Perfected in my dead
Loosening the grapple on the promise
Of a hazy tomorrow.

Notions of romance
Set my being ablaze
As the sun rose up from the east
Idealism bloomed
In the barren
Lands of my heart  

Farther ascent to the heights
Of obsession and want
What occupied my mind
Before it was consumed
With thoughts of you

That autumn
I wrote only of desire
I wrote of you.